Tears and Comfort
by strong.one9306
Summary: What if Trent had happened upon the scean in the kitchen after Rachel tried to make a circle with no aura?  Rated M, be warned.  I own nothing! Trench Chapter 11 up!  R&R and I do not own these characters!  Chapter 12 is up.
1. Chapter 1

Just something I thought about when reading WWBC. Trent arrives as Rachel blows up her kitchen How things may have gone. Please r&r. Be gentle. It's my first time! Trench

_A banshee?_ Trent thought to himself angrily, after all, it was easier to be angry than concerned for the little red-headed witch. _Really, Rachel? Could you have done anything stupider?_ The elf grumbled to himself as he stepped out of his black BMW and onto the curb outside of the little church. The night was chilly and his breath steamed out in front of him in the darkness. He pulled the long coat around him, though it made little difference as elves never really noticed the temperatures. It was more a learned response than anything else. With a soft grunt, he shoved the door shut, a loud slam sounding and he ran his fingers through his baby-fine blonde hair. The flowers he'd sent had received no reply from her, though he knew not to expect anything. His spy in the hospital said that she'd tossed the flowers out. While he didn't admit it to anyone else, the knowledge had hurt, bruising his pride just enough to make him curious. Then, when he'd learned of her escape, that curiosity turned to pride. She was never one to take things lying down. A smile shifted his lips at the memory of her staring accusingly up at him, green eyes flashing and red hair frizzing out around her.

The sudden explosion and pop in the air signalled him that all was not well inside the church and muttering a few choice words, he launched himself at the door while all the lights flickered out inside. All he could see was the sickly flickering of gold-black flames from the kitchen. _What did you do _this _time, Rachel?_ He didn't notice the chair in the sanctuary until after he stumbled and fell into an ungraceful heap just behind it. Secretly, he was glad that it was dark and by the sound of the fire extinguisher, all were busy inside the kitchen.

"Damn it, Ivy, do something," Trent heard the bug nearly shriek from the kitchen as he rolled and stumbled to his feet. "Pick her up. I can't help her. I'm too damned small." _You got that right, bug_, Trent mused as he moved silently into the kitchen entry way. The fridge was charred black with its door hanging open by a single bolt and Ivy stood with her back to him and the burnt hunk of metal. Jenks, the pixy, hovered over a nearly limp body on the floor. _Rachel._ She lay in the middle of a circle of salt, her fire hair fanning out around her head, her eyes closed and pain etched in every small feature on her face. Those thick, pouty lips were tight and thin as she struggled to breathe.

"I can't," the living vampire almost whispered, shifting her weight from one booted foot to the other. "Look at me, Jenks. I can't touch her."

There was a shifting as Rachel's crumbled form started to sit up. Trent stood in awe as he watched her, noticing her utter lack of aura with heart stopping accuracy. She'd tried to make a circle with no aura. She'd tapped a line with no filter. _Damn, that had to hurt..._ Trent remained unseen in the doorway as the little drama unfolded. Rachel's green eyes were only for the destroyed fridge and Jenks glared heatedly at the living vampire.

Then, the feisty little witch did something Trent didn't expect. She began to fold in on herself, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she lowered her face to her arms.

"Ivy," the pixy said almost desperately. "Pick her up. I'm too small. I can't help her. She needs to be touched or she's going to think she's alone." Trent's green eyes staid on the little witch as she held herself on the floor of her messy kitchen. He could see her frame begin to shiver, though he knew she was trying to stop it. The pixy was right. She needed to be held desperately. Something inside the elf shifted, softened and warmed, then broke just a little.

"I can't!" the vampire shouted, her small body shaking with frustration and something else. "Look at me! If I touch her..." The floating four-inch man glared at her, his wings a blur of motion and red, angry dust flying off him in waves. For the second time in less than five minutes, Trent agreed with the little bug. Tamwood was just making excuses not to comfort, to give when she'd been given so much. A flash of anger temporarily blinded him as he watched for just a little longer.

Wet, green eyes looked up from under the mass of red curls. The look of defeat was enough to make Trent's throat close painfully. _She _was_ alone._ His teeth clenched at the unfamiliar wrenching in the area of his heart and his brow furrowed. _If someone like her is alone in this world, what hope is there for me?_ It was a selfish thought, but one that danced through his brain, regardless.

"I can't touch you," the Ivy whispered. "I'm so sorry, Rachel. I can't..." Suddenly, the vamp turned and dashed out of the room, shoving Trent against the wall. Looking at him like he'd just sprouted a third head, she glanced over her shoulder into the kitchen. A single tear trickled down her pale cheek and she turned to glare at him again before turning and fleeing.

_Coward, _he thought bitterly. He then righted himself quickly, shifting his shoulders before turning and walking into the kitchen. The pixy made a startled gasp as he finally noticed the elf but Trent ignored him. He didn't have time for bugs. Instead, he focused on the broken witch sitting in an up-right fetal position on the dirty floor. His loafers made for crunchy, noisy steps as he moved around her. She didn't look up. Not even when he took the coat from his shoulders and wrapped it securely around her still form, then bent down and scooped her tiny, almost weightless body into his strong arms and held her close to him.

"What do you want, Kalamack?" the pixy almost spat. Again, Trent ignored him and stood with Rachel in his arms. He turned his back on the little man and began walking out of the kitchen. "Wait! Where are you going? So help me, elf-boy! You hurt her and you're going to _pay_!" The rest of the tirade was cut short as Trent strode out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. Please r&r! Thanks!

The car was silent and warm as Trent did his best to try and keep Rachel comfortable. She still hadn't said a word, nor had she seemed to notice she where she was. He could only tell that she was still awake by the soft sniffles and quiet tears as they made their way down her cheeks. She sat numbly staring at the dash board, her hands folded in her lap with his coat nearly drowning her. She didn't make a move to buckle herself when he had settled her in the car. Instead, he'd reached over and secured it across her still body, trying not to notice the soft smell of redwood that drifted from her. He drove through the streets of Cincinnati and away from the city lights toward his compound with the uncomfortable feeling of concern.

Why wasn't she talking? She could at least yell at him and show that she was still, well, _her_! Sitting there, she reminded him of a shadow that had been thoroughly used before being thrown away like so much meat. His brow furrowed and his lips pursed as he watched the road with unnecessary intent. He wanted to reach over and shake her back to life. _Or kiss her... _Instantly, he shook his head physically to rid himself of the thought.

It wasn't long before the compound gates shifted into view and Trent began to slow. With a polite (see: political) smile and wave to the guard, the iron began to shift to the side, making room for his sports car to move through. It was utterly dark on the long road that served as his drive way. The trees blocked out all but a few strangled silver beams of moonlight before it reached the path. It didn't matter, as Trent had memorized every pebble of the drive, knowing it better than he knew his familiar. He could even drive it without headlights, but unsure as to how Rachel would take the darkness, he left them on. He stole glances of her through the curtain of his blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. She still hadn't moved save the tears that ran unchecked down her face. He wanted to reach out and brush them away, wanted to make her look at him and show him that she was still in there.

With a sigh, Trent gave up trying to _will _her to look at him as they rounded the last corner and the house came into view. A door opened and the tall frames of Quen and Jon came lightly jogging out. He knew they'd be concerned after he'd left without a word to anyone as to where he was going. He was afraid that they'd try to talk him out of it. Or worse, _into _it. No doubt the guard at the gate had called ahead to inform them of his arrival back home. It was too dark for the guard to have noticed Rachel as she slumped in the passenger seat. A smirk crossed his thick lips as he considered what the two older elves would think when they realized she was there. It was going to be an interesting evening.

"Sa'han," Quin nearly whispered as he reached he side of the car, opening the door for Trent. The elven warrior's pox-scarred face was pinched with something between worry and anger. "You should have never left the compound without either Jonathan or myself with you. You know that it is dangerous in the city. Where on earth did you go?"

Ever since Ceri had become pregnant, Quin had been treating Trent more and more like a son. An impetuous son, at that. Trent had always looked up to the older man as a fatherly figure anyway, but sometimes, the protectiveness could become annoying. Trent's light brow came down in a frown as he walked around to the other side of the car. "I had some lose ends that needed attention," he muttered while he opened the door. A soft, collective gasp was heard from the other two elves as Rachel's still form was exposed to them. God, she was a mess, and still just as blank and distant as ever. Shaking his head, Trent bent down, unbuckled the seat belt and collected her into his arms yet again. She was so small there, so light, and the hollow look on her face made her look so vulnerable.

Trent's green eyes locked with Quen's over the mass of tangled red curls. The older elf looked as concerned as Trent felt and he allowed the helplessness show through his carefully built wall for just a moment. Quen nodded once, quickly, then turned and led the way into the house. Trent was quick on his heels, with Jon lagging behind, always the bodyguard.

"What happened?" Quen shot over his shoulder as he lead the way through the main floors of the house. The sleek design of professional modern décor was just a show to hide the darker secrets the grounds held.

"I'm not sure," Trent answered quickly. "She was stripped of her aura by a banshee earlier today. If you'll remember, I asked you to deliver flowers for her. When I got there, it sounded as though she'd blown up her kitchen and it shut off all of the lights in the church. It looked as though she tried to make a circle without an aura."

"Stupid witch," Jon grumbled behind them. Unfortunately, they all had to agree. The aura acted as a filter and that much raw power flowing through the body was asking for pain and trouble. "But that can't be all that happened. Making a circle without an aura is painful, but it shouldn't have left this much..." Jon seemed to struggle placing the word, making small gestures to the catatonic witch in Trent's arms.

"Damage?" Quen offered gruffly. He glanced back at the red-head, his face clearly confused and concerned as they made their way into Trent's personal quarters. "No, it shouldn't. She looks as though everything has been taken out of her."

"The pixy was screaming about her needing to be touched, comforted, so that she would know that she wasn't alone," Trent began explaining as Quen shoved the heavy doors that opened into the wide landing on the second floor of Trent's quarters. "The vampire refused to do it, making excuses about not being able to touch her and the pixy was too small to do any good. At first, she just looked bewildered at the fridge she managed to blow up and then she began to fold up into herself. It was like everything that she is just pulled away to hide somewhere inside."

"She's in shock," Jon suggested. It was entirely possible, but she wasn't shivering. She wasn't doing anything. Another set of doors brought them into Trent's bedroom with the large, four poster bed against the opposite wall from the doors, the large ward of ever-after to the side which was now as dark as if they were looking outside, and the various closets and dressing rooms, not to mention the bathroom, that lined the opposite wall from the ward.

Quickly, Trent placed the quite witch on the bed, watching as her green eyes took in nothing and continued to stare straight ahead. The three elves stood back from the bed and waited in deafening silence to see what she would do, if anything. For a few moments, there was nothing and then the red-head's chest rose and fell in a deep sigh. She then twisted her thin body to lie on her left side, bending her knees and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Her head snuggled into the pillows and her normally flashing eyes fluttered for a moment and then drooped down. Within seconds, she was breathing deeply and fast asleep while the astonished elves just watched.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3. Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I had a dog chew on my hand on Tuesday and the swelling and pain have finally reduced enough to be able to type.

Rachel has been stripped of her aura and tried to set a circle to summon Al. Trent happened along and came to the "rescue" when Rache needed someone to comfort her. He's taken her back to his compound where she promptly fell asleep. Now our story continues... Rating changed from T to M. Teehee!

Please R&R. These characters belong to the lovely and talented Kim Harrison. I am a poor single mother. Please don't sue me!

It had been hours since Trent arrived home with an empty Rachel in his arms. After a thorough medical check from Dr. Anders, Rachel was deemed completely healthy save the lack of aura and severe exhaustion. It was clear that she would be out for a while. Of course, Jon wanted to move the sleeping witch as soon as the doctor said there was nothing seriously wrong with her, but Trent wouldn't allow it. Instead, he quickly ushered everyone out of the room and changed into a pair of forest green satin pj bottoms and a white sleeveless tank top to cover his broad shoulders and long, muscular legs. He ran his thick fingers through his baby fine hair before he crawled up onto the bed beside Rachel's still form. The smell of redwood drifted up to greet the elf and he closed his deep green eyes as he took the scent into his lungs. He savoured the smell for a few moments, almost rolling it over his tongue before leaning back and relaxing on the piled pillows behind him. At some point during the exam, Trent had taken his favourite cashmere throw, royal purple in colour, and covered Rachel's sleeping body with it. As he slid himself closer to the witch, he pulled the blanket over to cover himself as well. The witch was warm in her sleep and made no protest as he wrapped his arms around her, spooning her back against his front and cradling her hips against his.

It was startling how comfortable Trent felt as he held her close. She fit along his front as though she was made to be there. Her narrow hips nestled comfortably against his, her shoulders and back so small compared to his, her curly red hair so soft against his cheek. His hands moved over the curve of her hip and the soft texture of the skin on her arms. He felt himself stir against her rear, throbbing to life as images of tangled limbs, soft moans and screams of climax echoing off his bedroom walls. He couldn't help rocking his hips against her ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Trent stilled as he felt her respond beside him, thrusting her hips back against him and sighing softly. A surge of desire stabbed right through him all the way down to his groin when her little hands lightly caressed his arm as it wrapped around her waist. He clenched his teeth and bit back a moan when she thrust again, stroking him through their clothes. She was going to drive him insane doing that! It had been so long for him, since he and Elizabeth had tried to make a go of it. That had been nearly two years ago and despite what the ice queen thought, he didn't take whores to slake his needs. When he'd seen Rachel in his office that first time posing as Francis, he'd felt the urgent demands clench him. It had angered him, made him feel vulnerable as she threatened him with tagging, jail and various other things. All the while, he kept picturing shoving her up against the wall and shoving his tongue down her throat.

That same image would pluage him throughout their dealings. Even as they screamed at each other, shouting ugly things back and forth, his body yelled louder for him to take her. Right there, up against the wall, on the desk, in the car, anywhere that would stand up to the impact. The first time he'd seen in in that slitted skirt and blouse, he thought the zipper on his slacks was going to burst open. As they drove through the streets of Cincinnati, the image of running his hand up her legs from ankles to thigh followed by his mouth and tongue made him shift uncomfortably. After he'd pulled her from the river, he'd very seriously contemplated warming her frozen body with the heat of his own naked flesh pressed against her, pushing and pulling line energy while he thrust his body in and out of hers. If Jon hadn't been there, he probably would have. It wouldn't have been a much better experience than Jon slapping her across her face repeatedly.

At the wedding reception, after he'd rescued Rachel from Al's demonic embrace, he carefully kept his lower body away from the dancing witch. Had she pressed close, she would have felt him hard and ready under his trousers. He'd wanted nothing more than to take the red-head to the floor and show Elizabeth and her family what elf passion was really all about.

Back to reality and Trent found himself rocking against Rachel's thrusting hips vigorously, shocking himself as she moaned in her sleep. His lips caressed her neck and just below his ear, tasting the redwood in her hair and on her skin. His fingers bit into her hips while he pulled her back against him. As she moved, his hand slipped and dove between her legs. He found moist heat there even through her clothes. He cupped her pubic bone and pressed his fingers against where he knew her clitoris would be throbbing. She rewarded him with a gasp followed by a low moan. By the desperation in her movements, he knew she was close. How she could be doing this in her sleep, he'd never understand, but all the same, she was so close to climax. The knowledge thrust him all the closer as he rocked against her, pressing his hard member between the cleft of her rear. He'd give anything to be inside her when they reached the end of this frantic dance, but she was asleep and even this was a little too close to something ugly for comfort. He knew he'd be kicking himself for it later, but for now, he was pulled along for the wild ride.

Suddenly, Rachel tensed in front of him and for a split second, he thought she'd woken up. He prepared himself for her wrath and was shocked when he got her cry of ecstasy instead. Her body convulsed against his hand and the scent of redwood exploded around him. Knowing she'd just orgasmed under his manipulations sent Trent spiralling to climax as well and the hot, sticky fluid of his ejaculation coated the satin of his pjs.

Gasping, Trent jerked awake, sitting upright in his bed while the cashmere throw pooled down around his waist. Beside him, Rachel slept soundly, soft snores slipping from her as she lay undisturbed. Damn it! It had all been a dream. He glanced down at his lap, noticing that at least one part of the dream had been real as the hot sperm stained the satin. Trent's ears turned a fine red and he felt relieved that no one else was around. He also felt a sense of comfort that he hadn't given in to his animal urges and molested Rachel in her sleep while she lay vulnerable.

Carefully, Trent shifted away from the still witch and off the bed, doing his best to keep his stained pjs from the coverlet across his bed. With the soft sounds of Rachel's snoring giving him a strange soundtrack to his steps as he tiptoed into the bathroom and cleaned himself up.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Trent has had himself a naughty dream about our lovely Rachel. He's rescued our heroin in her time of need after she blows up her kitchen in an effort to call Al, but has lapsed into some sort of shocked/depressed state. Next, our leading couple wake.

This chapter is a bit long, sorry! I do not own any of these beautiful characters. They are the brain-children of Kim Harrison and she gets all the credit for them.

Something shifted against the tall, lean elf and he felt a small head nuzzle into his chest. A long, muscular leg curved around one of his, slipping between his bent knees and resting high across his thigh. Instinctively, Trent's hands went to cup the head at his chest and the thigh across his leg. A nest of curls tangled around his fingers and that thigh flexed under his touch. His green eyes flew open as small, lightly muscled arms hugged him high around his waist. A soft sigh and groan came from the little witch that was twisted around him and Trent had to bite back his own sigh. _She's waking up_.

Discreetly, Trent moved his hand on Rachel's thigh, knowing that she would be most unhappy if she woke to find him fondling her. Instead, he brought the hand up to rest on the arm she had slung over his waist, fingers gently massaging the soft skin there. Redwood filled his lungs with ever breath and the smell was addictive and intoxicating. He'd never get tired of the smell and buried his nose in her curls gently to take a bigger whiff.

Suddenly, Rachel went ridged. He heard her breath catch in her throat as she came fully aware of her surroundings. He couldn't help the soft smile that tugged at his thick lips, his green eyes closing even as he knew hers were opening.

"Trent..?" she whispered softly. It was the first time she'd spoken since she blew up her kitchen and it was music to his ears.

"Good morning, Ms. Morgan," Trent said, his voice thick with sleep and amusement. She made a move to sit up but Trent tightened his grip on her, keeping her resting on his chest and grinned at her irritated grunt. "Going somewhere, Ms. Morgan? I thought we could just stay right here and you could tell me what in the Turn you were thinking trying to set a circle with no aura."

Grunting, Rachel forced her head up and off Trent's chest. Her red hair tumbled around her green eyes, giving that startling contrast of colour that threatened to steal Trent's breath from his lungs. The fire that burned in those green depths made his gut clench in sudden demands of need. She must have caught something in his face because instead of berating him, she frowned and tilted her head. "What?" she demanded softly.

"Oh, nothing," he replied as he shrugged his shoulders, trying to pass it off as nonchalances. "Just taking comfort in the first few moments of peace I've had since you went to sleep. Still have that snoring problem, I see." He grinned wickedly at her as he saw that flicker of anger return.

"Go Turn yourself, elf boy!" she grunted as she pushed herself away from him. He watched as she looked around and took in her environment, little glimmers of shock registering as she realized exactly where she was. "How...?" Clearly, she didn't remember him finding her and bringing her to his home. He could almost count down to the wild accusations to come.

"Now, Morgan, before your imagination runs away with you," he started slowly while he crossed his legs at the ankle and his arms behind his head at the wrist. He knew this would show off the length of his body quite well. He even stretched, flexing his legs in their navy blue pinstriped pj bottoms, the ones he'd changed into after his climactic dream earlier in the morning. He still wore the clingy cotton tank top, thin enough to show a slight darkening above his nipples. The muscles in his arms and chest rippled suggestively and much to Trent's amusement, Rachel's eyes followed every bit. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched, her mouth falling open slightly and her pink tongue wetting her thick lips quickly. He grinned before he cleared his throat to bring her eyes away from his body and back to his face.

The look of hungry shock is discarded quickly and Rachel gives an indignant huff before sliding off the bed. "My imagination doesn't do the running," she said with a curl to her lip. "I think you'll find that's your speciality."

"I did not kidnap you, Morgan, if that's what you're thinking," Trent countered in a low, nearly growl of a voice. He sat up and slid to the opposite side of the bed, his feet welcoming the plush feel of the carpet below. He looked up just in time to see the red-head stomping her way around the bed to poke him in the chest with a narrow finger.

"I didn't think that, Kalamack! Maybe that's just your. Guilty. Conscience!" She emphasise the last three words with hard pokes, smiling wickedly up at him when he moved to rub where she'd jabbed at him. "How in the hell did I get here, Kalamack and don't you lie to me or I'll let Jenks finally pix you. He's been _dying_ to do it since you kept me as your pet mink!"

Another smile quirked his lips but not for the reason she took it as. His mind flashed back to the moments when she was unconscious as her mink form when he'd stroke her soft fur from head to tail. Rachel obviously thought he was remembering the rat fights since she grunted indignantly and turned on her heel towards the door.

"Would you like some breakfast, Ms. Morgan?" he called after her. He knew that memories of the first time Rachel had tasted Maggie's famous waffles would stop her dead in her tracks and was rewarded with the scuffling sound of just that against the floor. He watched with no small amount of amusement as she slowly turned and glanced over her shoulder, a frown creasing her pale brow while she slowly regarded him.

"What are you offering, Trent?" _Oh, we're on a first name basis now, are we?_ He openly grinned at her as he slowly moved towards her, watching her watch him.

"I just figured after hospital food, a rather painful suicide attempt and then," he glanced at the bed side clock, "nine hours of sleeping in my bed would leave you feeling a bit peckish." Trent winked at her when he moved around her, opened the doors and left without waiting for her reply. He knew she'd follow so when the annoyed grunt and footsteps of the slender witch fell in behind him, he just kept on going.

The sound of running water was a familiar and welcome sound to his ears as he wandered out into the common room. His eyes moved over the two-story ward of ever-after and the garden beyond it. There were many days where he would sit and stare out the window, his thoughts moving through memories of Rachel and his interactions with her, trying to pin point the exact moment that he knew she was more than just an ordinary woman to him. Under the landing that was the main entrance to his quarters was the breakfast nook and to his pleasure and comfort, he saw that Maggie had already set the table for two. As if summoned by his thoughts, the white-haired, matronly woman emerged from the kitchen, holding a fresh pot of coffee in one hand and one of the delicate china pots of tea in the other.

"Good morning, Maggie," Trent said warmly as he stooped to place a light kiss on the woman's wrinkled cheek. Maggie blushed and smiled up at him while she placed the pots down in their proper places.

"Ms. Morgan!" Maggie cried as she turned to see Rachel moving almost soundlessly now behind the elf. "It's so good to see you again, Ms. Morgan. I heard you weren't feeling well. Is there anything that I can help with, my dear?"

Rachel smiled just as warmly at the gently elderly woman and something in Trent's chest melted. She could do that so _easily_. She could be so affectionate and friendly to just about anyone, well at least until they gave her good reason not to be. "Maggie, I thought I asked you to call me Rachel. It doesn't seem right to be so formal."

"Oh, all right, Rachel," Maggie playfully grumbled and gestured for the pair to sit down. "Any requests for breakfast this morning?"

At first, Rachel seemed a bit confused when Trent moved behind the chair that was closest to the coffee pot. When he drew it away from the table and inclined his head to it, she nervously moved to sit while he pushed it in under her. He used it as an excuse to get another whiff of her curls and before either woman could notice, he moved away to sit in his own seat across from the witch.

"I'd really love another crack at those waffles, if you don't mind, Maggie," Rachel said, blushing softly and looking down in her lap. Trent smiled at the sight of it and filed it away for something else to examine when he was alone later.

"Wonderful!" Maggie exclaimed, clasping her hands at the level of her chest. "I'm sure you don't mind, do you, Trent?" When he shook his head, she grinned and turned to flutter into the kitchen merrily.

"You know," Rachel started, "I never understood how someone so filled with light and goodness could get caught up with you." It was said in such a soft, passive voice, but the jab struck him low, none the less. It irritate him when she reminded him of his cruelty and short comings. He wanted her to see him like any other woman; handsome, rich, brilliant and charming. Instead, she chose to focus on the bio-drugs, Brimstone and the murders he'd committed here and there in the name of saving his race.

"Well, perhaps she's here to balance out the darkness you seem to find at every turn, Morgan," he grumbled. "Much like the pixy children in your church light the shadows that you and your demon heritage bring."

The moment it had come out of his mouth, he wanted to take it back. _Damn it! Why does she do this to me every single time!_ Irritation flashed over her features and she smiled cruelly at him. It was a very low blow and he knew it. He also knew that he'd pay for it.

"Well, those pixy children at least know what they're getting in to," Rachel almost whispered. "I don't lead lambs to the slaughter like you do, Mister Murdering-Billionaire-Drug-Lord."

"I assure you that I am no lamb," Maggie said cheerfully as she surprised even Trent at her sudden appearance. She carefully placed containers of strawberries, more than one this time after Rachel had monopolized them the first time they'd have breakfast, as well as maple syrup onto the table. "Trent has his reasons for everything that he does. I have faith in him and trust him with my life." The older woman paused and watched Rachel with her head tilted slightly to the side. "As should you, you know."

Trent nearly choked on the tea that he'd been attempting to drink when Maggie spun on her heel and walked out the room without another word. His green eyes flashed to Rachel's, both wider than normal. Rachel's mouth was open slightly and Trent wasn't sure if it was because of shock alone, or if it was distaste for what Maggie had said. Before they could discuss anything, Maggie returned with two plates of waffles and set them carefully in front of the two diners. She spoke a word of encouragement before she excused herself back to the kitchen.

For a while, the only sound that could be heard was the scrapes of knives and forks against china while the witch and elf ate in silence. Trent folded in on himself, lost in his thoughts and sneaking glances across the table. He could feel Rachel's eyes on him from time to time and tried his best to ignore the heat that crept over his ears. Did Maggie know of his feelings, his wants towards Rachel? Was she dropping hints for Rachel to accept Trent's however subtle advances? He decided it would be a good idea to have a talk with the housekeeper as soon as he could to ascertain exactly what she was aware of. If she knew, God knew how many other people had picked up on it.

"Thank you," came a whisper from across the table. Trent's head jerked up and he frowned when he saw Rachel pushing around little bits of strawberry and waffle across her plate, here head down and her unoccupied hand in her lap. She somehow seemed vulnerable and he didn't like it.

"For what, Ms. Morgan?"

"Oh will you please stop with the 'Ms. Morgan' crap!" Rachel cried, her eyes meeting his in for an instant of anger. Then the anger drained from her like blood and she dropped her gaze. "After all we've been through, I think a first-name basis would be appropriate." Again, she spoke in a voice just above a whisper and her body language was vulnerable.

"Very well, Rachel," Trent replied. He shifted his body back in his chair and crumpled his linen napkin in his hand in his lap. It was something to fidget with that she couldn't see or hear. "But the question still stands. What are you thanking me for?"

Instantly, a blush caressed her delicate features. It suited her. "You know for what," she said again into her lap. "I know you came to the church last night. I don't know why, but I know you were there. I know that you held me when Ivy wouldn't and Jenks couldn't. I know you staid with me while I slept so that I wouldn't feel alone." When Rachel looked up, there were tears brimming her eyes, some hanging off the small crest of lashes below her eyes like diamonds. The sight took his breath away. "Thank you. It means a lot to me."

It took him a few moments before Trent could trust his voice not to waver before he spoke. He even had to clear his throat, as if to dislodge a certain three-word sentence from it. "You're very welcome, Rachel," was all he said. Then, the two at the rest of their breakfast in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5. Trent struggles with his feelings and we see the other side of the encounter at the New Years Eve Party.

I do not own these characters. I just like to play with them, sometimes. Hehe!

Trent sat in his office staring blankly at his desk, the silence of the room echoing off the walls. It had been a few days since he'd found Rachel Morgan crumbled on her kitchen floor and brought her to his home. Every night since, he'd dreamt the same dream, tangled limbs, sweat, tears and cries of passion running through his brain and body like currents of electricity. Closing his eyes, Trent remembered the shared breakfast with Rachel and how it came to a close.

After thanking him uncomfortably, Rachel kept her attention in her lap. He studied her and the way her red curls fell around her face and shoulders, her posture slouched slightly and the lingering glare of defeat in her every movement. She still seemed so vulnerable and fragile and Trent was concerned.

"You know, Ms. Mor- Rachel,_" he corrected with a little more force than needed._ She looked up at him when he didn't immediately continue. "Tangling with banshees is a very dangerous thing." She snorted and turned her head away, a half smile curving her lips. _Okay, you've got her smiling, now stop,_ he thought to himself but as usual, he didn't listen to himself. "Maybe you should reconsider my offer of employment before you do something stupid enough to get yourself killed." _Smooth, Trent, smooth._

And there was that fire again, burning in the depths of those jewel-like eyes as she looked directly at him. "Your _offer_?" she nearly spat. "Don't you mean your demand to make me your _slave_?"

Trent's eyes slanted and a cold smile touched his lips as he watched her. "Maybe," he replied softly. "Much like your 'rescue tactic' from the ever-after. There I'm little more than your slave. Turn about is fair play, Rachel."

Rachel let out a loud sound, something between a grunt and a scream. "How many times do I have to tell you, _elf boy_, that I'm never going to act on it. I only _said_ that you're my familiar in order to get your tight ass out of there!"

"And how many times to I have to tell _you_, demoness, that I will _not_ be owned. Not even by word of mouth."

"Fine!" Rachel screamed loudly, standing and slamming her fist on the table, shocking Trent and causing him to jump slightly. She leaned over to get as close to his face as she could without moving around the table. "If I'm such a freaking _demon_, why the hell did you _help_ me, huh?" She didn't give him time to react and in fact, he wouldn't have been able to. Her question, or more, her _accusation_ stopped him dead in his mental tracks. Instead, she straightened, spun on her heel and marched away from the table. At first, he thought she'd go to hide in the bedroom, somewhere that he could easily follow her. When he noticed she was making a direct line for the stair case, he stood and moved to follow her.

"Quen!" the witch bellowed and as if by magic, the older elf materialized on the landing. "I want to go home. I don't have a car but I want to go home, right _now_!" Quen looked at Trent, who was by then only a few feet behind the marching red-head, and frowned. "Don't look at _him_! You have a mind of your own so freaking _use it_!"

Quen's frown deepened and one brow quirked. "It will take me a few minutes to get the car ready, Ms. Morgan," he grumbled as he watched the pair come to the top of the landing. "I would suggest some shoes, if Sa'han can afford to give up a pair. It is cold outside."

It was Trent's turn to frown and he made sure Quen saw it. "I'm sure Ms. Morgan can find a pair that will suit her if she should want to wear something home," he started, trying desperately to bring things into control. He was cut off, however, with an angry look tossed over a narrow shoulder.

"No, _thank you_," she growled. "I'm _fine_. I just want to go home."

"Yes, Ms. Morgan," Quen said politely. "Follow me." The last thing Trent saw of Rachel was her very tight rear end marching down his hallway and disappearing around the corner. He hadn't even been able to say goodbye. Quen later told him that she had cried on the drive home quietly and refused to answer any questions, just repeating her desire to be home. Once there, she'd thanked him and climbed out of the car in her socked feet, hesitating outside her front door and then stepping reluctantly inside.

Now, it was New Year's Eve and he'd heard nothing more from the little witch. He sat in his comfortable office chair smelling of leather and age and sighed. He had the itching desire to go to his room and pull the cashmere throw that had covered them as they slept that night and bring it to his nose. He'd refused to allow anyone to wash the blanket and the smell of redwood was still thick on it. He found he missed her and it bothered him. How could he miss something he'd only had for one night?

"Sa-han?" came a soft male voice from the door. Trent's eyes flickered up to see Jon standing in the doorway, watching him carefully. "We'll be late for the party if we don't leave now."

Inwardly, Trent groaned. Another party. Of course, maybe Rachel would be at this one. Sighing, Trent stood and ran his hands down the front of his dark tux. He'd chosen the outfit carefully, the tux being made out of soft material and cut close to show off his broad shoulders and narrow hips. The tie was professional, but had a print of red designs on black background. It was fun, making him appear a little less uptight, but still gave him the air of professionalism. Of course, he'd chosen the tie because the beautiful designed were the same shade of red as Rachel's hair and elegant but playful at the same time, just like the little witch.

"Shall we?" he muttered glumly as he move past Jonathan in the doorway and walked down the hall. With their elven quickness, the two made it out of the house and to the limo in only a few minutes. Quen was already there, opening the door so that Trent could duck down into the darkness of the car. The ride passed in silence, Quen riding in back with Trent and Jonathan driving. When they arrived at the tower, there was already a large group of reporters out front.

"Vultures," Trent whispered under his breath. Quen frowned at him and Trent shrugged. "So is the life of a public figure, correct, Quen?"

"Indeed, Sa'han," was the clipped reply. Anyone else would think Quen was irritate with Trent, but they'd been together too long not to know the difference. Concern was thick in Quen's words, voice and gaze as he looked over the younger elf. He knew they didn't have time, however, so he moved to open the door, allowing the roar of the press to fill the once deafening silence of the car.

"Mr. Kalamack, no date tonight?" shouted one reporter once Trent took a single step outside of the car. Normally, he would indulge them in little sound bites here and there, but tonight he was in no mood. "Mr. Kalamack, what do you think of Rachel Morgan's shunning? Is it unfounded?"

A flash of irritation warmed him as Trent's eyes locked on Jonathan's. _So, he'd gone ahead and done it, even though I'd told him not to._ Jonathan knew he was in trouble and dropped his gaze quickly.

"Mr. Kalamack!" was shouted at him repeatedly as Quen and Jon took up their posts on either side of him, pushing their way through the press and into the building. As soon as the doors were closed, Trent turned and balled his fist. Jonathan went slamming into a wall with the force of the blow an Trent glared at him, daring him to get up as he slumped to the floor.

"You got her _shunned_?" he spat at the tall elf. Quen's restraining hand fell on Trent's chest, holding him and his rage in check. "Wait with the car, Jon. We'll continue this at home." Without waiting to see Jon's reaction, Trent spun on his heel and walked to the elevator. The ride was like everything recently; silent. When the doors opened, the party was in full swing.

It was a good fifteen minutes of networking and professional pleasantries before Trent was able to reach the bar. He ordered a glass of red wine, feeling something twist inside him as he'd made a point never to drink in public. Tonight, he was on edge and wouldn't mind something to help wind him down. The first sip was exquisite and he rolled the dry liquid across his tongue for a moment before swallowing. Then, a familiar flash of red curls caught his attention.

Rachel stood about twenty feet to his left, wearing a long black dress with no shoulders and choker neckline. Her hair was pulled up off her shoulders in a complicated braid, making her look so elegant and graceful that it felt like someone had punched him in the gut. She was with the elderly FIB detective, talking to the human as well as her pixy, smiling softy. She was beautiful, so beautiful that he didn't even realize that he was moving towards her until he heard the pixy say his name.

"Trent?" she said, spinning around to face him. "Hi, Trent," she said wryly, her smile going a little forced. Her eyes went up and down over his body, taking in the well-cut tux and her eyes lingering on his hips a little longer than was reasonably considered proper. She flushed a little red when she looked up and saw herself caught. Then she actually frowned and Trent couldn't help but touch his hair with his slightly throbbing hand self-consciously.

"Ms. Morgan," he said, raising his glass pointedly, not wanting to touch her for fear that he wouldn't be able to stop. All that shining, pale skin almost gleaming an invitation to him.

"We've shared a cell in the ever-after, among other things," she said softly. "I really think we ought to be on that first-name basis, don't you?"

Trent raised a pale eyebrow, images of the many things he'd like to share with her while uttering her first name flashing through his brain. Of course, his mouth had to go and ruin it. "They're dressing the help nicely this year," he said smugly and the FIB detective tried to hide a laugh. Irritation burned across Rachel's beautiful face.

There was the sound of a camera's shutter and whine that stole both Trent and Rachel's attention from one another. An oddly dressed photographer from the _Cincinnati Enquirer_ smiled warmly with her two cameras slung awkwardly across her. "Councilman Kalamack," she said a little too enthusiastically, "Can I get a picture of you, the lady and Captain Edden together?"

Edden said something to Rachel that made her whisper quickly back, effectively distracting her as Trent moved up behind her. He couldn't help himself as he switched the wine glass into his other hand, then putting his free hand around Rachel's trim waist. He wrapped his fingers over the curve of her waist, making sure his fingers would be seen by the camera and hence anyone who read the paper the following morning. It was a possessive move, but Trent didn't care. He wanted to posses her. Edden put his hand on her shoulder and Trent felt Rachel shift, pressing her back against his front and the muscles of her stomach clenched a bit. Trent smirked softly as he contemplated how such a beautiful woman could feel self-conscious enough to suck in an non-existent gut. The camera's shutter clicked several times Trent felt Rachel stiffen under his touch and his gaze flickered to see Quen watching the two of them.

"Wonderful," the distracted photographer said, gazing at the back of the camera. "Thank you. Enjoy the party."

"Always a pleasure to talk to the press," Trent muttered as he pulled away, needing to put a little distance between that siren's body and himself. Inside he was screaming at his hormones and trying to keep them leashed. He couldn't keep tempting himself by getting so close to Rachel and expecting nothing to happen. Nothing _would _happen, of course, as it was so clear that Rachel didn't return his desire. Out of the corner of his eye and the edge of his perception, the photographer was asking Edden to pose more pictures, leaving Rachel to stand alone and stranded not far from where Trent wrestled with his own desires. Sighing, she cocked her hip and tapped her heel once.

"How is Ceri?" she asked.

Those hips, those narrow yet wonderfully curved hips, she'd pushed one out to show off the angle. "Fine," he replied tightly.

She nodded, obviously wanting him to continue, and when she realized he wouldn't, she continued, her tone taking on an irritated, accusing tone. "My calls are being stopped at the switchboard," she said.

That wasn't entirely true. They were being transferred to him instead but she'd hang up before his personal secretary could connect them. "I'll look into it," he said simply. He didn't mean his look to be mocking when he looked at her, but it was better than lustful. Slowly, he turned to walk away.

"Trent," she called as she jumped to keep up.

"Don't touch me, Morgan," he said without moving his lips. _I won't be able to stop myself if you do. _Needing something to distract himself, he waved absently to the mayor across the room.

Somehow, the pixy had returned without Trent noticing and he made a surprised sound. _Damn bug_, Trent thought. _Right where I want to be... _Suddenly, Rachel was standing in front of him, stopping him dead in his tracks and he had to rock back to keep himself from colliding with her. _Doesn't this woman know the kind of danger she's putting herself in?_

"Trent," she said stiffly, "this is stupid."

His eyebrows rose high and desperation for distance took the better of him and squished it into some locked trunk deep inside of him. "You are a demon. If I could, I'd have you jailed on that alone. Shunning is hardly justice."

Her expression became stiff. "Take me down and you go with me, eh?" she asked, the pixy landing on her shoulder.

He couldn't stop the mirthless smile from twisting his face. "That's about it."

"I'm not a demon," she almost whispered. Clearly, she was hurt, but Trent had to get out of there. That tantalizing glimpse of flesh of her shoulders and the redwood drifting off of her driving him crazy with need. He sniffed, taking the smell into his lungs deeply, the cruel smile still on his face probably making her think he smelled something awful.

"You're close enough for me." Then he started trying to push away again. It was either get away or push her up against the nearest wall and ring in the new year with a very public bang.

"It was your dad's fault." The muttered phrase stopped both the fire burning inside him and the need to get away. Slowly, he turned to face her, the pixy on her shoulder making some rude comment about "daddy".

"He saved your life," he said indignantly. "It was a mistake that cost him his own. My father didn't make you. You were born what you are, and if you need more proof, just look at who you settled into an apprenticeship with."

Anger flashed in her and she leaned close, the pixy taking off from her shoulder as she grew closer. "You just don't get it, do you?" she whispered harshly. "I did what I did to save your life. Laying claim to you was the only way to get you out of there, and to do that, I had to agree to a very tight tie to Al."

Mention of the demon made Trent's blood boil. The way he'd mocked him and his feelings for Rachel when she'd been summoned out of that cell still echoed in his brain. "Tight tie," he mocked under his breath. "You're his student."

"I did it to save your _damned freaking life_!" she hissed at him. "I don't expect any thanks from you, as you're so irritatingly unable to thank anyone for doing something that you're afraid to do, but stop taking your guilt out on me." With that, she turned on her heel and stomped off to the windows, closing in on herself and closely followed by the pixy.

Suddenly, before Trent could make sense of anything, Quen was at his arm with a tumbler of water and ice in his hand. "Take it, Sa'han. Bring it to Ms. Morgan and speak to her."

"Quen," he almost whined. He was nearly free of her and there was the older elf, pulling his weight and making him go back. When it was apparent that Trent wasn't going to win, he took the water in his unoccupied hand and moved silently over to where Rachel and Jenks were talking.

"Look at that," he heard Rachel mutter. "The bastard made me cry." Guilt knotted at Trent's gut and he frowned.

"You want me to pix him?" Jenks offered quietly.

"No. But I don't have the chance of a ghost's fart in a wind storm to get that Pandora Charm." Trent's eyebrows rose again and he deliberately scuffed his shoe to alert them to his presence. Rachel spun, hastily wiping tears from her cheeks as she faced him.

"Here is your water," he said through clenched teeth. He watched her eyes dance up and down his body, then behind him, no doubt finding Quen there. Sighing, she took the glass, her posture all about defeat and Trent touched his hair to make sure it was laying flat again.

"Jenks, could you see if the bathrooms are clear?" she asked softly and something in Trent's gut eased. The pixy complied quickly and Rachel turned to the window, her back on the elf. Not being able to resist those bare shoulders, Trent moved up beside her, looking down at the mass of people in the Square, no doubt partying it up in the chill of the night air. "I don't have anything to say to you right now," she said softly.

"I don't have anything to say to you, either," he said. _Liar!_ The tension rolled off him as he tried to ignore his body's demands. "You need a Pandora Charm?" he asked casually, still staring out the window.

He felt her stiffen beside him and watched with amusement out of the corner of his eye as she tried to play it off, breathing on the glass, her perfect mouth making an "O". "Yes," she said simply.

He turned to lean his shoulder on the glass, his full attention on her, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's a rare branch of magic."

"I know. Elven, my mother says."

He staid silent, watching her as she shifted uncomfortably. "Tell me what you need to remember, and maybe I'll look into it." Secretly, he wanted her to remember a time at camp, when he'd realized that she was exactly what he wanted.

He watched as a million emotions plaid over her face. With a sigh, she turned to face him. "I'm trying to remember who killed Kisten Felps."

Something akin to a knife twisting in his chest made him want to grab the witch and shake her. Reminders of a man that she'd loved not so very long ago, still loved, that wasn't him, was _not_ what he needed right now. His jaw unclenched, irritation flashing through him. Again, he ran his fingers through his soft hair and cleared his throat softly. "I thought you'd want to remember something from the make-a-wish camp, or your father," he said, doing his best to hide the hurt.

She turned to look out the window again. "What if it was?" she whispered after a few long seconds.

"I might have said yes."

Rachel shifted again, her eyes searching the crowd. She was nervous for some reason and Trent frowned. "What do you want, Trent?" she asked, obviously trying to rush things. "You wouldn't offer if you didn't want something. Other than me dead, that is."

Instantly, his mind flashed to one of his favourite erotic images of her on her knees in front of him and her mouth on him. He smiled with half his mouth as need clenched him low, then he went to pure seriousness. "How do you figure I want something? I'm just curious as to what makes you tick." _And what I can do to get you in my bed as soon as possible._

Her head tilted and a glitter of control shone in her green eyes. "You've approached me twice. You've touched your hair three times. You had a drink in your hand when we had our picture taken. That will be the first if it goes to press. You're nervous and upset, not thinking clearly."

He felt his face loose all expression and he dropped his head, feeling slightly helpless for just a moment. When he brought his face up to meet her eyes, he knew there was some tightness there that he'd fought all night. Was he really that easy to read? Was it just her or did everyone see it? He shot a questioning glance to Quen, but the security guard didn't help at all, just giving a soft shrug.

"Is it Ceri?" she mocked.

Trent's brow furrowed. _No, it's you. It's all this need I have for you and it's the fact that you're totally freaking clueless to it!_

"You want to know what she really thinks of you," Rachel guessed, completely off the mark. Trent remained silent, desperately wanting to scream the truth in her face and make her deal with it. A messy grin covered her mouth and his heart clenched, even as she tried to cover it up with a drink of water. She set the small glass down on the railing and watched it slowly move away as the restaurant turned. "You won't like what I say."

"I don't like a lot of things," he grumbled. _Like the fact that I even want you in the first bloody place!_

Rachel sighed and she studied him. Tent ground his teeth lightly and waited. "Ask Ceri," she finally said. "She'll tell you a pretty story that will save your pride."

"Rachel," Trent said softly, slowly starting to reach out for her. She jerked back a step and glared at him.

"Don't touch me," she spat coldly at him and his heart fell. He'd done it again. He noticed her gaze focus at a distance before she turned to him and said tightly, "If you will excuse me, I have to use the little girl's room. Happy New Year, Trent."

Disappointed and angry with himself, he watched as she moved across the room. He frowned as he noticed that she veered away from the rest-rooms and towards the elevators. Jenks joined her, settling on her shoulder and she seemed to sag as the doors drifted closed.


	6. Chapter 6

Damn that woman. She could infuriate Trent faster than anything else imaginable. She always took things the wrong way and always stomped off before he could so much as _think_ to apologize! He stared at the damned elevator doors, his anger thick and his already racked nerves jumping at the slightest thought. When Quen suddenly stood beside him, it was all he could do to keep from hitting the man.

"That was _not_ what I had in mind," he said glumly. His pox-scarred face was pinched in a frown as he followed Trent's gaze to the lift.

"Oh, yeah, because I just _plan_ to end everything with Morgan fighting!" Trent spat. He looked over at the older elf, who lifted one eyebrow at him, as if saying, _Grow up, you shmuck!_

They stood there, watching one another for a few minutes, a battle of wills with no actual battle. When his father had died, Quen stepped in and guided Trent as he came into manhood. Trent respected the man, even envied him. His love for Ceri and her love for him was something he always dreamed about. It would never happen with Ceri, but maybe with Rachel... No! Trent shook his head, trying to dislodge the thought even as he yearned for it.

"When are you going to understand, Sa'han?" Quen whispered, stepping closer. The scorn was thick in his voice, more than Trent had ever heard, compelling him to listen. "She can't help what she is. She can't help the fact that she was born a witch. She can't help that she was born with Rosewood Syndrome. She can't help that _your_ father fixed her and in turn, fixed the safe-guards we put in place thousands of years ago. She can't help it any more than _you_ can. She's not evil."

A tear of frustration, anger and fear traced down Trent's cheek as he kept his green eyes locked with Quen's. He was right. She _wasn't_ evil, but how could he get past the fact that she could summon demon magic? Demon magic was evil. Wasn't it? A growl of frustration ripped from his throat as he pulled himself away from Quen, marching towards the gentleman's lounge. He had to get away. He had to get away from the truth in Quen's voice and eyes. It was all so damned confusing.

In the bathroom, Trent finally found himself alone. All the crushing bodies of the party-goers gone, the noise of conversation and clinking glasses void from his ears. Trent stalked to the dark marble counter with the long line of sinks and mirror above it, bracing himself on his hands, his head hung low. There was a fine tremble that moved through his body while Quen's words echoed through his brain. He remembered the make-a-wish camp, when he'd first noticed the red-headed witch, so weak with illness, yet so alive. He instantly envied her, her fire, her magic, her lust for life. He'd known that his destiny was to be married to Elizabeth and have happy little elven royalty babies and that was that, but it didn't change the fact that he wanted Rachel. He even befriended her best friend Jasmine in an effort to get closer to her. Of course, that had gone terribly wrong, just like everything else that included Rachel.

With something between a growl and a scream, Trent threw a crystal glass that had been next to his hand on the counter. It shattered once it hit the wall and Trent watched the millions of pieces fall to the floor. Why did it have to be so damned _difficult_? He could have any woman he wanted in an _instant_, but the only one worth the effort wanted _nothing_ to do with him.

"No," he said to himself. "There _has _to be a way to fix this." Trent sniffed, turned back to the mirror and attempted to pull himself back together. He smoothed his slightly dishevelled hair against his head and washed his hands slowly and thoroughly. After drying his hands, he smoothed the front of his tux against his body, fingers running over the finely sculpted muscles under the cloth. Satisfied with his appearance, he turned and left the bathroom.

The loud sounds of a party greeted him warmly and Trent's eyes searched the crowd. He found Quen still standing where he'd left him and he nodded a silent apology to the older elf. Being forever graceful, Quen returned the nod, then gave him a pointed look toward the elevator. Trent took a deep breath and nodded quickly, spinning on his heel and marching over to the doors. He _had_ to talk to Rachel.

Once he entered the elevator and the doors closed without anyone else entering, Trent quickly opened the emergency access panel. There he pressed a recall button, which would automatically take him to the same floor last used. Silently, he prayed that no one else had used the lift since Rachel as the elevator began to move down.

The ride was very brief, only going down one floor. Trent took a deep breath as the bell sounded and the doors started to slide open. What he saw made his throat tighten and he flattened himself against the wall. That damned _demon_ was here? He stood there in the familiar frock coat making Rachel's signature vampire kiss-kiss motion at him.

"Tink's contractual hell," whispered the pixy and Rachel spun around to see him.

"Trent. This isn't what it looks like," she cried.

_Like hell_, he thought as he pulled himself back together, smoothing his tux again and glaring at Rachel.

"This just keeps getting better and better," grumbled Jenks as he settled on Rachel's shoulder. _Damned bug_, Trent thought eyeing him while Rachel pressed the call button a little forcefully.

"We'll take the next one," she said almost apologetically.

"Plenty of room!" cried the demon, shoving Rachel hard enough to slam into Trent, who of course acted like an idiot and fended her off, his terror slipping again just slightly. Jenks flitted up to the top of the screen, looking down at the foursome with a sour look and tapping his foot impatiently.

"I do not believe this," Trent growled at her. "Rachel, you are unbelievable!" Trent paused for a moment, realizing he'd just repeated himself and felt his ears go red.

"Believe it, you little cookie maker," Jenks almost sang, then turned to a man Trent hadn't noticed before. "Hit the 'close' button, will you Pierce? We don't have all day." Trent frowned as the new man stared stupidly at the pixy, who sighed in aggravation and flew down to slam into said button.

"Holy shit! We're falling!" the man cried, wearing sweat pants and a sweat shirt that was obviously too big for him. _What?_ Trent thought.

Then Rachel unexpectedly bumped into his front and Trent turned his attention back to the red-head. Waves of redwood hit his nose and Trent took it deeply into his lungs. He leaned down closer to her, his fear and anger momentarily over-riding his desire to sweep her into his arms and kiss her soundly.

"Summoning your demon on top of Carew Tower?" he hissed into her ear, taking deep breaths under the guise of calming himself when all he wanted was to trap her scent inside of him forever.

She shifted a little away from him and between the demon and the elf. She looked pissed and tired and Trent frowned suddenly. "I'm trying to make the world a little safer," she muttered. When the demon looked at her, she beamed beautifully at him, making Trent's gut clench. How could she smile so warmly at that _thing_? Once the demon looked away, the beautiful smile slipped back to a delicate frown and Trent ground his teeth. "He's not abducting you, is he? Turning you into a toad? I've got this _under control_!" Her voice went from a whisper to a shout before she slapped the lobby button with a tiny fist.

"You'll be jailed for this," Trent grumbled, thinking a cell in his bedroom centred on holy ground would be _perfect_ for her.

"Nonsense," the demon piped up, taking his smoky glasses off to polish them. "I'm here to party on this side of the lines, eat a little something, but mostly," he paused, his red, goat-slitted eyes moving over Rachel possessively, "I'm here to keep our itchy witch from killing herself with an ash-to-flesh spell."

Something clicked in Trent's brain. The new guy having kittens in the corner was dead. He was freaking _dead_ and Rachel brought him back to life! Trent's wide gaze went back and forth from Rachel to Al, disbelief and fear making his heart jump. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more dangerous...

When Rachel turned to look at him, he gaped down at her. "You can bring the dead back to life? That's black magic!"

"Not at all!" Al said with a wide smile. "Where do you think our itchy witch found this little runt of a bastard?" The demon indicated the pale man by shoving him roughly, who gagged though Trent wasn't sure if it was from the smell of burnt amber or the movement of the elevator. "He's a ghost." The demon gave a sniff and grumbled, "Can't you smell the worms on him?"

Distantly, Trent heard Rachel's head hit the wall. "You're a ghost?" he asked, eyeing the shaky man. The ghost in question extended a shaky hand, almost as if he were afraid he'd fall to his death if he completely released his death grip on the railing behind him.

"Gordon Pierce. Coven of moral and ethical standards. And you are, sir?" The man swallowed roughly and Trent took a step back, reluctant to touch him out of fear of being puked on.

"You're what?" Rachel cried as the pixy dropped down to hover beside her.

"Rache," he hissed, "isn't that the coven that got you shunned?" When Rachel nodded, Jenks continued. "Maybe he can get your shunning rescinded."

Trent felt about as startled as Rachel looked. A coven member? Slowly, he took the man's hand, feeling the slight tremble in the witch's touch. "Ah, I'm a Trent Kalamack," he introduced himself slowly. "C.E.O of-"

Suddenly, Pierce jerked his hand out of Trent's grasp, a sour look on his face. "Kalamack Industries," he finished as he straightened himself. "I knew your father." Well, if the coven member bit hadn't stunned Trent, _this _little bit of information did.

"I do not freaking believe this," Rachel whispered as she moved, keeping both the elf and the witch in her sights.

Distantly, Al began to laugh. "Amazing who you meet in an elevator!" he cried gleefully. Trent eyed a warning that was meant for Pierce towards Rachel.

"You have a charm to bring the dead to life," Trent said slowly to her. "And it's white."

Rachel looked as though she were going to respond before Al interrupted. "And it's for sale, at apprentice rates. No guarantees. I have two right here," he said smoothly, patting his coat pocket right above his heart and Trent curled his lip. "It's temporary. The curse to give them a body is a far sight trickier. Someone has to die, you see. I'd imagine that would make them black, but you don't seem to worry about killing people for your own ends, do you Trenton Aloysius Kalamack?" The demon grinned at him as he pushed the barb. "Funny how you call _my_ witch black, when you kill for profit, and she..." He paused, smirking as Trent growled a bit at the "_my_ witch" bit. His red eyes went wide and innocent as he gasped, "Why, she hasn't killed anyone who didn't ask her to! Imagine that!"

Red heat crawled up Trent's face. First, the demon claimed Rachel, then he insisted on pointing out that Trent killed freely while Rachel didn't. "I don't kill for profit."

A glum voice from the corner said, "You kill for progress, if you're anything like your father." As one, the entire group looked at the forgotten dead witch. Trent may have said something to defend himself but the elevator dinged and the doors opened. The smell of smoke hit him and finally he realized what their rush had been. Rachel was working.

"Splendid!" cried Al gleefully. "A fire!" Then the demon was vaulting himself out of the elevator, quickly followed by Rachel, Pierce and Jenks. Trent was left alone, yet again, watching her leave. With _him_. Disappointment and anger filled him as he moved slowly out of the lift. He never stood a chance. He didn't even notice when Quen joined him, guiding him through the mob of people and to the car.

"Wait!" he called when he felt the car start. "Keep an eye on Rachel. That damned witch has a nose for trouble and she still has very little aura."

"Yes, Sa'han," Quen said, giving him a proud smile and slipping out of the car. The door closed behind him and there were two taps on the top of the roof before the car pulled away.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry that it's taken me so long to update. I've been working too hard at work and when I come home, all I want to do is sleep. lol Anyway, enjoy! Please R&R and please no sue-ie. I have no money. lol

Weeks had passed since New Years and Trent's last encounter with Rachel at Carew Tower. He had made the Pandora Charm and instructed Jonathan to send it to her well over two weeks ago and heard nothing from her. He knew it couldn't be due to the memory he'd chosen to invoke. She'd remembered her vampire lover's death on her own, even discovered the bodies of the murderer and his scion in the old tunnels under the city. Knowing that the IS would simply cover up the crime and hide what had happened, Rachel had somehow sealed the tomb, using a curse that was so powerful, it dropped the levers f the ley line energy all over the city. Everyone felt it, even if they didn't know what it was.

So if it wasn't the memory, then why hadn't Rachel contacted him? The memory of their ride together was important to him. He could still feel the press of her twelve-year-old bod against his back, her arms tight around his waist, holding him close. He'd felt oddly aroused with her so near to him. When she'd fallen and hit her head, knocking her not only unconscious, but forcing the air from her lungs, he'd been terrified. The lab techs quickly found them in the field while he crouched over her, trying to wake her desperately. He refused to leave her side when they took her to the medical cabin and insisted that his father personally check her over. Even when sleep pulled at him, he simply curled up in a chair and fell asleep, his head resting on the bed beside her.

Lee had teased him mercilessly about it, constantly singing, "Trent and Rachel, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" It was one of the deciding factors of Trent trapping him in that cave for days. When Rachel recovered in the morning, then threw him against a tree with line energy, he'd been stunned and hurt, in more than one way. It felt like rejection and his father had blocked him from interacting with her before he dismissed her from the camp. Over the years, he'd tried to forget about her, which was easier said than done. He'd taken to keeping a distant eye on her and her career. When she'd left the IS, he'd intended on bringing her into the company and closer to him. Of course, like anything that involved Rachel, that turned out wrong.

Sighing, Trent shifted in his office chair. The room was empty and silent, everything neat and tidy, all things in their place. Even the paperwork semi-spread out in front of him was organized. It was his mind that was in chaos. Thoughts and memories tangled in his head, wants and needs tore through his heart. At the same time, he felt honour bound to leave the damned witch alone and settle down with an elven woman. It didn't help that Rachel could kindle demon magic. Nor did the fact that her children would be demons, unless Trent succeeded.

The fair haired elf frowned deeply, green eyes looking over the paperwork but seeing nothing. It was in these moments that Trent was most angry with Rachel. When it seemed his soul was crying out for her, even though his mind screamed back that she was no good. It didn't seem to matter how often or how convincingly he tried to convince himself of the fact that Rachel was not his match, his heart wouldn't give her up. Even when he'd been planning to marry Elizabeth, a perfectly good, however perfectly cold, elven woman, he wanted Rachel. He couldn't stay away from her.

A sound similar to a growl escaped Trent's full lips and a large hand grasped for the phone in the top right corner of his over-sized desk. Thick fingers quickly punched a series of numbers as his other hand put the receiver to his slightly pointed ear. Two short rings and the soft, yet professional voice of his secretary came on the line.

"Yes, Mr. Kalamack?" she asked sweetly. Trent raise a brow and fought a sigh. Her school-girl crush on him was irritating at best.

"Please inform Quen that I'll be gong out today," he instructed calmly. "And call the garage. I need the Mustang made ready for me."

"Will you be needing a driver, sir?"

"No, I'll be driving myself today," he returned gruffly. The last thing he needed was a babysitter. No doubt Jon would try to stop him, especially if he knew where he was going. Quen would probably run distraction for him, but that would take time to organize. Time was not something Trent felt he had at the moment. "Thank you, Sara Jane."

He was moving before he even settled the phone back in it's cradle. His tall, broad frame rippled under the fine cloth of his suit as he nearly marched determinedly out of his office, past the starry eyed receptionist with her blond hair and well-pressed suit and down the hall. He barely even noticed the people in the building as he moved through the corridors. He would give polite nods and smiles to all he came into contact with, even if only briefly but still managed to make it to the garage in record time. Like the good little employees he'd trained them all to be, his car was ready, started and warmed up for him and he slid behind the wheel easily. As he was driving out of the garage, he noticed Jonathan making his way towards him, a very displeased look on his face. Trent merely smiled and waved before he gunned the engine an took off without him.

The drive to Rachel's little church was always long, but for some reason, today was longer. His mind kept going over his various encounters with her before settling on the memory of their trip to the ever-after together. Specifically when she'd fallen asleep in that defunct church while waiting for Jenks to retrieve the DNA sample. She'd looked very peaceful curled on her side, green eyes closed and wild red curls tumbling over her face. She slept soundly, not even stirring when he could no longer help himself and tucked a surprisingly soft curl behind her small ear. When she opened her mouth and let out a snore loud enough to cause an avalanche, Trent jumped back, rolling his eyes and laughing softly not only to himself, but _at_ himself.

That memory always made him smile, if only softly. He'd had to fight himself to keep from curling up around her, pulling her into his arms and holding her while they both slept. His body ached for it, but getting distracted in demon country would not have been wise, regardless of the fact that they were in a church and the demons were outside. Of course, the things he'd wanted to do to her right there in front of the angel statue would have probably desecrated the ground and allowed the demons to run amok. Trent shifted in the driver seat as he felt an all too familiar stirring from deep inside.

Before too long, he had reached his destination. The church was quiet in the early afternoon sun, snow clinging to the roof and grounds like a stubborn blanket, refusing to pull away and allow the building to wake. With a deep sigh, Trent shut off the engine, eyeing the windows for any signs of movement as he got out of the car and locked the doors behind him. He'd hoped he hadn't come too early as Rachel was bitchier than normal when woken too soon. All he needed was for that insufferable woman to start her nagging before he developed the nerve to say what he needed to say. Of course, she was also sexier than most times when she held that slightly rumpled look of interrupted sleep. It was one of the reasons he tended to bother her before he knew she was awake.

With only a few quick strides, Trent reached the heavy wooden door. He balled his fist and knocked loudly, hearing it echo inside and smiling softly to himself. The smile only grew as the seconds and minutes ticked by with no sound from inside. _She's asleep._ He knocked louder and gave a soft chuckle when he finally heard cussing from inside. The door flew open to reveal a satisfactorily pissy and messy Rachel, her curls flying around her head like it had a mind of its own. Her small body wore only a thin pair of pj bottoms, the colour of the midnight sky, and a black, spaghetti strapped tank top. Her nipples pressed against the thin fabric as the cold air caressed her and Trent bit back a groan.

"What in the Turn do you want, Trent?" she spat at him, her eyes glittering with anger even while dulled with sleep. Her brow was pinched in a frown and her lips slightly parted, showing her white teeth in what looked like a snarl but not quite reaching it.

"May I come in, Rachel?" he said finally, a little disappointed when his voice came out as a husky purr, however satisfied when Rachel's face changed to a slightly shocked expression and she shivered. It could have just been from the chill of the January afternoon, but it made her body move in such a tempting way. When she moved aside after a few moments of silent debate, Trent brushed past her, making sure the sleeve of his blazer lightly touched the front of her body. He walked until he was in the centre of the sanctuary, then turned to see here still standing by the door, which remained wide open. "If I'm not mistaken, you have a family of pixies residing in your church, do you not, Rachel? The cold air isn't good for them." At the reminder, the little witch actually _jumped _and slammed the door shut, sliding the locks into place quickly. Trent smiled again as he watched her.

When she turned back to him, she was angry again, but not as much as before. "I repeat, you thick elf, what in the Turn are you doing here? Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Indeed I do, Rachel, but it makes little difference. You're awake now." When all she did was cross her arms under those oh-so inviting breasts of hers and glare at him, he continued. "I came to see how the charm worked for you. I'd rather hoped to hear from you about it by now."

A guilty look flashed over her face before she looked at the floor. Trent smirked and expected her to scuff her bare toe on the floor in an _awe shucks_ motion. "I haven't done it yet," she said softly. She quickly recovered her fire and looked back up at him defiantly. "Been a little busy, you know? Shunned and all." Then she turned from him and walked out of the room, down the hall to the kitchen. Slowly, Trent followed her, his green eyes resting on the curve of her rear as it filled out those midnight blue lounge pants so well.

"From what I understand," he said slowly, "not much business has come your way since the shunning, and what has ventured to your doorway are jobs flavoured with assassination and various other things you find distasteful."

At the coffee pot, Rachel turned to glare at him. "Well, you should know, shouldn't you?" she growled at him. "You're the one that put the shunning on me."

Shock rippled through him before he quickly remembered that he'd allowed her to think that rather than telling her the truth. His head dipped and his hand came up to smooth his hair while he took a deep, calming breath. He ground his teeth and tried not to moan when the smell of redwood filled his lungs. It wasn't fair for her to smell that damned good. When he looked up, he found her watching him while holding a very large cup of coffee before her nose.

"I'm not here to argue with you, Rachel," he said in a low voice. Irritation flared through him when she smirked at him.

"Why _are_ you here then, Trent?" she asked as she cocked her hip to the side, wrapping one arm over her midsection while the other had held the coffee.

Try as he might, he couldn't make the words come out of his mouth. The seemed lodged in his throat somehow, making him choke slightly. He watched her, knowing his face had changed by her expression. She looked almost _concerned_ for him and moved to put the coffee cup on the counter. He took that moment of distraction to quickly close the distance between them and pull her into his arms. Her face was shocked as she looked up at him, her mouth making that perfect little "O" of surprise. It was too tempting and he bent his head to taste her.

The kiss was timid at first, starting with only Trent making an effort. Rachel was rod stiff along his front, not fighting but not cooperating either. The energy spindled in both seemed to melt them together, though, and Rachel soon relaxed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her slender fingers going into his fine hair. Her mouth was warm and tasted of honey and coffee, her scent filling his longs as his tongue swept along her bottom lip, seeking acceptance. She quickly complied, opening her mouth for his thorough examination.

Then the itch started, quickly spreading from the back of his neck down his back. He leapt away from Rachel's still compliant form with a yelp, his eyes shooting up to find that damned _bug_ grinning wickedly at him. "You little _pest_!" he shouted, leaping up in a vain attempt to try and pluck the four-inch man from the air. The pixy squealed with laughter and flew out of his reach.

"Serves you right for trying to kill Rachel!" Jenks cried down to him, still laughing in an eye-piercing squeal.


	8. Chapter 8

"If you don't know the difference between trying to kill someone and kissing someone," Trent said between gritted teeth, "I feel _sorry_ for your _wife_!"

There was a high-pitched scrape of wings from Jenks and a hard punch on his arm from Rachel that caused him to grunt. "Be nice," she whispered from behind him as she put the cool wash cloth over the blister that had formed on the back of his neck. Trent gave an indignant sound, jaw dropped as he wordlessly pointed at the blister. "I _know_, but he was just trying to protect me. With your history, can you really _blame_ him?" Trent slumped and scowled, folding his arms across his chest, now missing his jacket and down to his pale blue men's dress shirt.

"Where is that balm you said you'd made," Rachel grunted out loud, irritation flairing in her voice. "We should put it on you before that blister gets too bad."

Grumbling something about squishing bugs for sport as a child, Trent snatched his jacket off the large table and dipped is fingers into the inside pocket. He pulled out a small circular tin about the size of an old silver dollar and about a half an inch thick, handing it to her. "I can't see it so I'll need a little help," he growled. Then it struck him. _I could use this to my advantage_, he thought, dropping his gaze so she wouldn't catch the look of triumph he knew would be all over his face. When he'd gained his control back, he looked up, making his face look as soft as he could, allowing some of his discomfort to show through. "Will you help me? Please?"

That did it. He knew Rachel had a very hard time saying no to anyone that asked politely. It had helped him in more than one situation. Rachel dropped her green eyes to the tin, then back up to him, drawing her full bottom lip into her mouth to worry at it a bit with her teeth. The pixy groaned as both men saw her acceptance. "I guess so, since it was _my friend_ that pixed you," she mumbled.

"It's not just the neck," Trent said, shifting from the waist up. "The damn dust went down my shirt and pooled over my spine." There was silence from Rachel and the bug buzzed in irritation above them.

"Okay," Rachel sighed. "Take off your shirt"

"Are you _kidding_?" Trent shouted. "Not with that damned _bug_ here! He'll pix me again!" He crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the little witch, his face in a tight frown. While he may have had a hidden agenda, he was being totally honest about not wanting to go shirtless in front of Jenks. More skin to irritate was _not_ a wise idea.

"Oh, wait a minute!" the pixy shouted. "I'm not going _anywhere_! This is _my _church and the bloody elf boy can choke on it!"

Rachel gave an irritated sigh and suddenly grabbed Trent by the hand. "Fine, we'll go to my room," she all but growled, launching into motion and dragging a slightly amused however shocked Trent behind her.

The tiny bedroom was trashed, clothes strewn everywhere, dozens of bottles of perfume on a small chest of drawers with a small bed that was rumpled and unmade. Rachel was still in her night clothes and Trent took the opportunity to admire her along with the impression that her body had made in her bed. The door was slammed shut on a screeching pixy and Rachel kicked some clothes in front of it so he couldn't easily fly under it. _This is working out better than I thought_.

"All right, Trent," she said in a clipped voice, "take off your damned shirt and let's get this over with." She turned her back to him, arranging the tin of balm and the damn cloth on her chest of drawers in a huff. Every movement was quick and jerky with frustration and Trent smiled.

He stood behind her, watching her move while he slowly brought his hands up to the tie at his neck. He grasped the dark blue knot with one hand and pulled with the other, trying not to jar the blister on his neck while he loosened it and laid it on her bed. He then worked the buttons through their holes, eyes still watching her and face carefully void of emotion. When she turned, he was half way down the shirt, exposing his broad chest and giving her teasing glimpses of rock hard abs under the cloth. He heard her gasp and watched here eyes go wide as she took him in, working the last of the buttons free and pulling the shirt out of his slacks. His neck and back stung when he pulled the shirt from his shoulders and tossed it next to his tie on the bed.

She didn't move, didn't make a sound, just looked at him with her mouth slightly opened. Her gaze was so intense it was almost as if her fingers caressed him, moving over the muscles in his abs and his chest, causing his nipples to tighten. A faint blush crept up his neck to his face and ears at the sensation and he swallowed hard. He could feel himself hardening in his trousers and knew that if she only looked down, she'd see it for herself.

Quickly, Trent recovered his composure, clearing his throat and clasping his hands in front of his hips, trying to hide himself. "Is there a problem, Rachel?" he asked softly. When she didn't answer, he took a step closer to her, frowning. "Rachel?"

There was almost an audible snap as she jerked her eyes up to his, swallowing hard. After a few attempts to speak that looked more like fish breaths, she just shook her head, her cheeks growing pink, then red. Her little hand did a little gesture, telling him to turn around without a sound. She cleared her throat and turned to get the damp cloth.

Smiling softly to himself, Trent did as he was told, turning his back to her and crossing his arms over his chest. He knew when she turned because there was a hiss and the sound of her moving closer. He sensed her aura pushing at him when she was within a few inches, giving him some warning before the soft rag touched the raw blisters along his spine. Despite the warning, he still jerked and stiffened. Damned bug and his damned bug dust!

"This is really nasty, Trent," Rachel said into his shoulders, her breath making him shiver slightly as it caressed him. He hoped to hell that she hadn't noticed, or at least attributed it to the cool cloth in her hands. She continued to gently pat at the blisters and irritated skin until some of the burning was soothed. She moved away from him for only a second before her small fingers were gently rubbing the balm into his skin, soft caresses making him sigh before he could hold it back. "Better?" she asked almost smugly.

"Not yet," he said, smiling and closing his eyes, feeling her fingers moving down slowly to the hollow of his back. The burning was going out with every touch, every slip of her fingers. This woman was magic, itself. By the time she'd reached where the blisters stopped and the waist of his trousers began, he was rock hard and trembling.

When he felt her back away, Trent turned. He didn't have the will power to keep the want out of his eyes and off of his face and he knew that Rachel could see it. She worried at her bottom lip again, her chest rising and falling under that thin top with increasing speed. His hands fell in fists at his sides, trying to hold himself back even as he saw her nipples begin to press through the black material.

"Trent," she whispered, as if his name could shield her from his desire. It did the exact opposite, and he was on her in an instant. His arms went around her waist, pulling her tight against his front and his mouth descended onto hers, his kiss thorough from the very beginning. She fought him for only a second before his growl rumbled a warning through his chest and into hers. Then she melted against him, even bringing one leg up to hook around his hip.

Gasping, he jerked back, only separating their faces but leaving their bodies ground together. "Rachel," he whispered back to her. "Please, let me. I've wanted to for so long. Please." She trembled for him, her eyes closed against his terrible need so raw on his face. He thrust himself against her, knowing that their hight was even enough to put him right where he needed to be and being rewarded with a moan. She didn't speak, only nodded her head, eyes still closed tightly.

It was all he needed though and he lifted her light frame off the ground, feeling her other leg loop around him, her ankles hooking together behind him. He moved slowly, his mouth trailing kisses over her throat and jaw, carefully avoiding the vampire scar and feeling her shudder for him. When his knees hit the bed, he bent at the waist, slowly laying her down on the bed. He reached back and took her ankles from behind him, freeing himself and watching her eyes open to watch him. Good. He wanted her to see. He stepped back enough for her to be able to easily observe his actions, laying on her back with her legs bent at the knees, spread for him so all he had to do was lay down between them. Her breath was coming in soft pants, the rise and fall of her breasts making him shiver.

His hands went to his black leather belt, quickly unbuckling it and sliding it from its loops and dropping it to the floor. Rachel moved, sitting up and watching him while she drew her small top up and over her head, throwing it somewhere to be lost and not seen again. His movements stopped at the sight of her nude from the waist up, her small breasts high and firm with dark pink nipples. Her skin was so smooth and creamy and he licked his lips in anticipation of kissing it. He then began to mimic her movements as her fingers dipped under the waistband of her lounge pants. His fingers went to the button and zipper while hers just hooked the waistband and began to tug it over her hips. When his trousers hit the floor, his breath caught in his throat as he saw her completely bare and still on her back on the bed. He'd wanted to make the reveal a tease, drawn out as long as he could, but with a strangled groan, he ripped his boxer briefs from his hips and nearly leapt on the damn bed.

Rachel let out a little squeal of laughter as Trent bounced over her, his body covering hers completely and his mouth taking possession of hers in mere seconds. With a few thrusts of his hips, he felt her, wet and ready and oh so open for him. He growled into her mouth, his tongue exploring every inch of her as he angled his tip at her entrance. Only when he started pushing gently into her did she realize what she was in for. She stiffened under him, her thighs clamping down around his hips and her eyes flashing open. She made a slightly strangled sound and Trent pulled his hips and his head back at the same time.

"Hush, Rachel," he soothed, rocking his hips over here and using her own excitement to lube his long, thick shaft. "I promise to be gentle. I won't hurt you. Let me. Please."

"Tink's red panties, Trent!" she gasped under him. "You're freaking _huge_! I don't know if I can take all of that in me."

His fingers gently caressed her face, soothing the worry lines around her eyes and smoothing her wild curls away from her face. He continued to thrust against her, the underside of his shaft running along her tight nub of nerves making her shiver and moan softly. "I'll be slow, Rachel," he promised softly. "I won't hurt you."

He moved to angle himself again, and when she made no sound to protest, he pushed his head back inside her. She was so damned tight, clutching at him demandingly. Slowly, he worked inch by inch into her, always drawing out before pushing more into her. He watched her face, her eyes locked on his so he could watch every ripple of ecstasy dance across her face. He had no idea how close she was until he finally bottomed out inside of her and she instantly came around him. She cried out under him, her arms and legs grasping wildly at him, though always careful not to bother the line of blisters down his spine. It was all he could do to keep from moving inside her and groaned with the effort against the side of her neck. When she slowly stilled, he hooked his arms under her shoulders, his fingers lightly caressing her face, and pulled back to watch her.

She was beautiful in her post-orgasmic state, her skin glistening with the fine sheen of sweat and glowing from the inside out. Her eyes were closed and her breath was still coming in slow gasps. Her curls were a halo of wild red around her head, making her pale skin shine all the more. Her tight sheath rippled around him, begging him for more, but he denied her. He wanted her with him when he began to move. He waited and waited, watching her and letting his fingers play in her messy hair while the urgent demands of his body screamed and raged at him to move!

Slowly, Rachel opened her eyes and looked up at Trent. Her eyebrows came together in a frown while her thick lips curled up in a grin. "I do hope that's not all you have, Mr. Kalamack," she teased, her fingers playing along his ears. He shivered for her, closing his eyes in pleasure at the combined sensation of his ears being caressed and her hot channel squeezing him.

When her fingers trailed down from his ear and across his cheek, he quickly turned his head and caught the tips in his teeth. She gave him a gasp and another squeeze down low and he growled at her. "Oh, no, Ms. Morgan," he purred. "I have not yet begun to give you what you deserve." With a grin of pure wickedness, he suddenly pulled himself out to just his tip, listening to her cry out at his sudden withdraw. He felt her tense beneath him, expecting him to slam back into her. She'd had far too many rough lovers. Time to show her what gentleness could do.

With slow, torturous care, he pushed back down, filling her so completely that she had to gasp for air. It was exquisitely cruel to take such time with her, making her feel every single inch of him all the way down to her toes. At first, Trent kept their gazes locked on one another. He wanted to see her feel him, wanted to watch the pleasure dance through her eyes and across her face like leaves on the wind. It was so erotic the way her brow pinched and her lips parted, frowning with every withdraw, then smoothing and gasping with ever entrance. When he could take no more, he bent his head and kissed her, running his tongue over her teeth, memorizing every surface. When her tongue dipped into his mouth, he moaned for her, tangling their tongues like they'd tangled their arms and legs. The kiss stole their breath and an edge of his control as he started moving a little faster inside her.

His mouth moved from hers, kissing and licking her jaw and neck to her shoulder. His teeth gently grazed her skin and she shuddered for him. He moaned again softly when he felt the rippling beginning inside her. It wasn't long before he was pushing her over the edge again, her cries echoing through the room and his very soul while she clung to him. He kept his pace, wanting more for her, slow and luxurious, filling her up with his body while his lips caressed her shoulders and neck. She gave him a third and a fourth orgasm, her body clenching down so tightly around him, testing his control. She was gasping for him while his teeth gently nibbled at her collar bone and his hips thrust oh so slowly in and out of her.

As the fifth climax approached her, she gasped, she reached down and brought his face up to hers. She kissed him soundly and moaned into his mouth before breaking them apart. "Trent, please," she begged breathlessly. "Please, come with me. I can't take much more."

"You want me to finish with you?" he asked, shifting his position and unhooking his arms from her shoulders. When she nodded, he pulled back so that they could each gaze down the lines of their own bodies to where they connected so intimately. "Tell me where, Rachel. Tell me where you want me to finish."

As expected, her eyes had followed his movements and she began watching him moving inside of her. The sight alone made her cry out. "Inside, the Turn take it!" she cried. "Finish inside of me!"

That was what he needed and he quickened his pace. He knew it wouldn't take much more to send her over the edge and the sensation of her eyes watching them joining along with the increased friction on his organ had him nearly there in seconds. "Now, Rachel," he groaned. She locked gazes with him and nodded a second before their combined climax took them, throwing them over the edge of some great waterfall, pleasure fulfilling them as he emptied himself into her, filling her up with his sperm and everything else he could give her. They shouted each other's names, her nails making red tracks down his arms and his head going back while he shouted in a hoarse voice to the sky.


	9. Chapter 9

It took a few moments for Trent and Rachel to come out of the orgasmic haze. After a few more shutters, Trent slumped his body over her gasping form, his head resting on his shoulder. He made no other move to release himself from her feminine grasp. Sweat matted his hair to his forehead and her body glistened with it. He felt her arms encircle is shoulders and head, cradling him to her tenderly. He watched her collar bone rise and fall as she gulped in air and felt her still clutching his softening member. As his eyes closed, he savoured the feel of her under him, _finally_.

Then came the loud knock on the door and the sound of a very pissed off pixy squealing his rage. Trent's shoulders slumped as he felt Rachel groan under him. He lifted his head to find her face pinched in a frown, her green eyes still closed and her red curls stuck to her face. He shifted to sweep on of the offending curls away, causing her eyes to open and look down at him. At first, he expected her to turn into his fiery Rachel and yell at him. When he saw her features soften and a soft smile tickle her lips, he grinned. Dispite the continuing shrieks at the door, Trent launched himself up her body to cover her lips with his mouth, pushing his tongue inside and feeling hers return the motion. Her fingers clutched his hair, pulling him closer to her and her legs followed the action, clutching at his hips. Trent groaned into her mouth, feeling him stiffen slightly inside her.

Another pounding on the door, louder this time, followed by cussing and threats against his life made Trent grumble. He pulled away from the searing kiss and gazed down at his long awaited lover with a sigh. "I'm sorry, Rachel," he said disappointedly, "I just cannot concentrate with that screeching."

At first, Rachel just frowned up at him and he again expected her to get angry with him. Then, her face brightened and she began laughing, causing her lower muscles to do curious things to him and making him gasp and groan again. It only seemed to make her laugh harder as she tried to sooth him with a fingertip across his mouth.

"Get off me, elf man," she said with a grin, "and we'll go face the music together." He smiled in return and oh, so slowly began to raise his body up off of her. He kept their lower bodies connected until the very last. Then, with a sudden withdraw he left them both bereft with the separation. The slack look of need on Rachel's face was very satisfying, even if he knew that it was echoed with his own.

The pounding on the door didn't stop, providing a punctuated soundtrack to their slow dressing. Rachel opted to put on a fresh pair of green satin panties and a matching bra seamed with lace that made her pale skin shine. Trent watched her dress with fascinated eyes. He was transfixed with the way her jeans caressed her hips and the firm glob of her backside. His fingers itched to touch it, but as the pounding grew louder, he thought better of it. He'd finished pulling his clothes on, opting out of the tie, which he draped over his arm along with his blazer. His shirt was left untucked and his hair messy with post-coital musing. When she turned to him after slipping into a light green sweater, shoes and socks, he gave her a warm, shy smile.

"Shall we?" she said, a slight frown on her face. She was getting uncomfortable and Trent frowned in return. As she moved to the door, he grabbed her arm and pulled her around to face him, pressing her against him. She looked shocked again, though after what they'd just done, he didn't now why. His eyes searched her face and found soft confusion.

"Don't," he said sternly. When she just frowned harder, he continued. "This was something magical and wonderful and something I _very_ much hope will happen again and again. Don't go getting distant and confused on me. Don't put us back to where we were." When he finished his speech, he leaned down and kissed her tenderly, holding her close to him. When he finally had to pull away or face suffocation, he looked down at her to see her eyes closed and her mouth open and swollen with the very thorough kisses he'd been giving her. Her eyes opened and while there was still confusion there, there was also the glimmer of acceptance. That was the best he was going to get as the pounding at the door was getting loud enough to shake it on it's hinges.

With a shuttering sigh, Rachel turned from him and they both moved to the doorway together. It was Rachel that opened it, kicking the clothes out of the way. As expected, there stood a very pissed off vampire and pixy, both bristling with rage. The pixy dangled in mid-air at the very hight of Trent's face with shimmering red dust making a small but growing puddle beneath him. The vampire stood, arms crossed, her eyes black as she glared at Trent. In a surprise move, Rachel moved in front of him to block their views. By the raised eyebrows and the slight dip in the flight of the pixy, Trent wasn't the only one surprised by the action.

"Look," she started, raising her hands up in front of her in a move somewhere between beseeching and defence, "no harm done. No need for anyone to get upset, right?" Even Trent wasn't convinced by those few words and obviously, neither were her room-mates.

"Rachel!" screeched the pixy so loudly that Trent actually reached to cover his ears. "That little cookie-maker just... just... well, you know what he did!" Trent had to fight a smile as he watched the little man blush. It became even harder when Ivy's lips began to twitch.

"I think the whole block knows, Jenks," she said with anger and amusement mixing in her voice. Even with her back turned to him, Trent could see Rachel blush and drop her head., her shoulders slumping. For some reason, that made him mad, very mad and he pushed her behind him with a graceful shrug.

"So what?" he yelled into the vamp's face. "So what if everyone in the _city_ knows what we did? We're both adults, despite the way you two treat her! You have no right to make her feel guilty for doing something enjoyable for _herself_ for a change."

Ivy's stance changed and her arms went down to her sides. Her eyes practically _gleamed_ with menace as her mouth opened just slightly to get his scent. Instead, she got a very powerful whiff of the smell of sex and sweat that permeated the bedroom. Her eyes widened in shock an her mouth dropped as she spun and ran out of the church as quickly as her vampire strength allowed her. Jenks hovered there, starring after her with indignant surprise and Rachel let out a soft gasp behind him.

Then came the long expected thump on his shoulder from behind when Rachel punched him. "What in the Turn do you think you're doing?" she yelled when he turned to give her a shocked expression. Her expression was one of outrage until she met his eyes. Then, a little sliver of something else flickered, uncertainty maybe. She frowned at him, making her full lower lip pout unconsciously. Trent had to fight himself not to sweep her up and kiss those lips and take her back into the bedroom to ravage her again. "You hurt her feelings," she muttered after a few minutes. She then pushed past him to follow the flight of the vampire, leaving Trent and the stunned pixy alone in her doorway.


	10. Chapter 10

Trent stared off after the little red-headed vixen with an open out of astonishment. _What in the hell was that about?_ He'd been _defending_ her and he got a punch in the arm? Not that the punch really did anything, but still. He glanced over at the pixy that still hovered at eye level and found he wasn't the only one surprised. He was facing the same way Trent had been, his jaw dropped practically to his chest with wide eyes. It was amazing the little bug hadn't just dropped out of the air.

Trent cleared his throat. "Well, that was unexpected," he muttered. When the pixy slowly turned in the air to face him, expression never changing, Trent felt his ears burn slightly. "Ask Rachel to call me, will you? We've got a lot to talk about."

Then the bug did drop. His flight pattern ducked as he gave the pixy version of a stumble, then came back up to Trent's face, mere inches from his nose. "Oh, ya think, cookie-maker?" he shouted. "You just _did _ Rachel! I didn't know she even _liked _you. Hell, I didn't know _you _liked _her_! And you just did her! And then, to top off this wonderful morning, you pissed of Ivy and pulled a knight-in-shining-armor routine by trying to _defend_ what the two of you did! What in Tink's diaphragm happened here?"

Through the little tirade by the little man, Trent's lips began to quirk up until a smirk formed. "I think you just summed it up nicely," he said in a deep, smug voice, then turned and walked out of the church leaving the screeching bug behind. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate at all as he went around to the driver's seat of his car, climbed in and drove off. He kept himself cool and collected. _No hysterics where press may see you_, echoed in his fairly chaotic brain.

He'd finally done it. He'd finally given into his urges and Rachel had _let_ him. His mind plaid back the images of their love-making, like in instant replay of events. She felt softer than he could have imagined, smelled positively edible and fit tightly and perfectly over him. As he began to rise again in his trousers, he very much hoped that Rachel would be calling him very soon so he could have her again.

The drive home was filled with quite speculation as Trent reviewed the entire encounter carefully. By the time he'd pulled into the drive, he was back to hard and heavy with need. He awkwardly positioned his blazer over the front of his hips when he noticed Quen and Ceri approaching him. He plastered his businessman smile onto his face and greeted them warmly enough as he tried to shuffle off to his private quarters.

"How is Rachel doing?" Ceri asked softly, her dainty hands resting on the top of her bulging belly in her billowy blue gown. Her royal blood was never anything she could hide, regardless of what she was doing. Trent was convinced she'd look regal and dignified when she was pushing her baby into the world.

Trent cleared his throat, trying not to feel himself shift in his trousers. Being close to Quen and Ceri made him flag a bit until another vision flashed behind his eyes and he'd stiffen again. It was most distracting. It wasn't until he noticed the confused and slightly concerned looks that the two other elves where giving him that he shook himself out of his trance and lifted his chin. "She's fine, if not the normal, mild irritation," he said, the hint of warmth in his voice taking the sting out of his words and Ceri smiled. "It was that blasted bug that was the main issue."

Quin's worried look returned and a frown creased the pox-scarred face. "What do you mean, Sa'han?" he asked in his low voice.

Trent sighed and shifted, feeling the blisters throb a bit at the back of his neck. "The little thing pixed me. He thought I was trying to hurt her."

Quin and Ceri exchanged knowing looks with soft smirks on their faces. It was Ceri who spoke. "And just what _were_ you doing to her?" she asked, the laughter that bubbled below the surface leaking out only slightly.

Trent's normal, carefully guarded mask slipped and he gave them a wide-eyed, startled look with his mouth opening just a bit. _Did _everyone_ know before me?_ "I-I was, um," he stuttered, unable to find the right words quickly enough. "I was discussing a run that I'd like her to take." He gave a triumphant grin after finally finding an excuse plausible enough, then quickly checked it and squelched it to a soft smile.

That infuriating look passed between the other elves quietly and then they smiled at him. "I did not know that there was a need for Miss Morgan's talents at this time, Sa'han," Quin smirked.

Another flash of Rachel's moans echoed through his mind, landing in a nearly vicious blow to his gut, and lower things. He actually had to close his eyes and clench his teeth to keep from moaning in return. _Yes, _he thought, _Miss Morgan has many talents._

"Are you ill, Trenton?" Ceri asked softly, her hand touching his forearm lightly, bringing him out of his lust-induced stupor. His eyes flashed open to see her face concerned, but her eyes glittering in a knowing way.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," he said with another smile. "Just a bit tired and sore from that damn bug's pixing. I think a shower might be in order." He gave the two a nod and turned away to walk alone into the large compound, leaving the elves alone together in the cool, crisp air.

The halls fell away from Trent as he moved through them quickly. His brain echoed with soft moans, harsh cries and screams of ecstasy. He actually had to bite his tongue to keep himself from groaning as his erection throbbed. When he finally spilled through the doors to his private quarters, he finally let out a strangled shout, falling against the closed doors. He'd thought his need for her would dissipate after finally having her. Maybe not for long, but this urgent, burning desire only grew while he remembered the sensation of sliding in and out of her. Sweat slicked his brow again as he practically ran down his stairs, heading straight for his bedroom. He could smell her on him, her sweat, her slick juices wafting up to his nose from his burning need. Another groan escaped his lips. He _had _to get that smell off him before it drove him insane!

As soon as he was safe in his room, the door locked behind him, his clothes began to fall away. With every layer removed from his skin, the smell of her only grew. That soft, redwood scent that he loved so much no tortured him as it triggered the memories of her writhing for him. When he hit the bathroom, he was naked leaving a line of clothes from the bedroom door. He slamed it closed behind him and stomped over to the shower, turning it on to the hotest temperature he could stand. When he stepped under the falling water, it felt like pricks of fire against the blisters that graced his back. He allowed those needle-like drops to cascade over the firm muscles of his chest, down the rippling abs to the thick, heavy need below.

Roughly, Trent jerked the bar of soap from it's holder just beside him and worked up a lather. The soap smelled of lavender, Maggie's idea of soothing him, no doubt. It was almost amusing as he slid his hand over his tip and groaned, knowing that only one red-haired witch could sooth him. His grasp was tight, trying to mimic the way her feminine sheath clenched him, slowly moving from base to tip then back. Helplessly, he thrust his hips, his head back and his eyes closed. The hot water imitated the heat of her skin and the rough drag of her nails down his back and arms. He began to work up a furious rhythm, moaning through clenched teeth when he heard the click of his bathroom door open and froze.

"Trent? Are you in here?" came the all too familiar voice of the exact object of his need.


	11. Chapter 11

I just wanted to take a second and apologize for any spelling mistakes. I am dyslexic and sometimes, it has a tendency to show through. People tell me that it's amazing I read and write as much as I do with the disability, but it is highly embarrassing when the mistakes happen.

For some reason, even with his raging erection, desperate need and trembling desire racking his body and his mind, Trent stood very still. His heart was pounding in his ears and his grasp still tight around himself. _She's here? What in the hell is she doing here?_ The thoughts fluttered through his brain before she timidly said his name again.

"I really need to talk to you," she almost whispered. He barely heard her over the sound of his shower beating down on him. Very slowly, he reached for his shower curtain and pulled it slightly to the side. Hiding his lower body, he bent at the waist and peeked out from the long sheet of black, his face, he knew, was filled with surprise and with all of his control going to the quivering need bouncing against his lower belly, he couldn't check himself. When he stood quietly staring at her for a few minutes, she swallowed, shyly looked down at her toes and continued. "I-I think we should discuss what happened earlier. Ivy and Jenks, they're really upset and..."

That was as far as she got because for some reason, the mention of those names somehow enraged him. _They've got nothing to _fucking_ do with this!_ He jerked the shower curtain to the side and launched himself forward. Rachel's face went from a timid and uncomfortable frown, to a slack jawed shock with a very satisfying little squeak when Trent picked her up in his haste and slammed her against the opposite wall. His wet, warm body pressed up against her with her almost cold clothes and his hands roamed everywhere. The light green of her sweater turned to the colour of fresh, wet leaves and her jeans nearly a sea blue when he reached down to pull her thigh up and wrap her leg around his hip. His mouth trembled a mere inch from hers, his eyes wild with his anger mixed with need.

"I don't care if I've upset them," he said in a gruff whisper. "They were supposed to take _care_ of you and they've both failed miserably time and time again. They clutch at you selfishly for their own needs but give little in return and the one time you do something for _yourself_, they throw a guilt trip at you like a fucking net. I won't allow that, Rachel."

The moment the last bit slipped out, Trent immediately regretted it. He saw the flash of anger glitter in those green eyes and finally, she reacted, slamming her little fist against his rock hard, wet and naked chest. She glared up at him, giving him that little pouty lip that made him have to bite back a groan. _Groaning would be a very ba-a-a-a-d idea right now, Trent_.

"They've been my _friends_ while you've tried to _kill_ me over and over again!" she shouted up at him. "They've given more to me than you have over the last few years so don't you _dare_ tell me that they've given me nothing. And while you're at it, don't tell me what you _will_ and _won't_ allow. This is _my _life and I'll do what I please."

Even through her angry yelling, Trent staid pressed against her, one hand on her thigh, the other against the wall beside her head, catching some of her hair in his grasp. He trembled with need, but he was sure she thought it to be aggravation for her words. Oh, how wrong she was. While he gazed down at that glowering face, he couldn't help himself and bent to kiss her. She tried to fight him, tried to push away his chest, but it was like moving an ant moving a boulder. When his tongue swept inside her mouth, he felt her falter a bit, her pushing a little less angry and a little more like a caress. He twitched against here where his organ was pressed between their bellies and it seemed it was the first time Rachel noticed it. She gave him something between a whimper and a moan, spurring Trent onward.

When they both came up for air, ragged gasps echoing in the steamy bathroom, he thrust against her. "Unless you want those clothes soaked, I suggest you take. Them. _Off_!" he growled at her, punctuating the last three words with thrusts of his hips. The front of her jeans bit into the sensitive flesh but the slight pain only added to his pleasure. When all she did was pant at him with her eyes tightly closed, Trent growled again and began jerking off the offending material. First came the sweater, thrown off in no particular direction, then the dark green bra. He paused a moment to feel the press of her hard nipples against his heated chest. His hips never stopped bucking against her front in an almost desperate need for release. He finally tore away from her, hearing a gasp and watching those beautiful, shining eyes flash wide for him, his hands went down to yank her jeans down roughly. She gave him little sounds of impatience as he got them stuck on her shoes, those infernal high heeled boots that she always wore. In his rush, he'd forgotten that she may have just put some shoes on before driving to his compound. Finally, impatience took charge and Trent put his fingers on either side of the cuff and ripped them open with a wet sound. He pulled the jeans off then got those damned boots, quickly followed by her socks off.

Suddenly, Rachel was just as naked as he was and Trent slowly slid his gaze up her body, still half kneeling in front of her. Her sex was right in front of his face and his hands, of their own volition, moved up her legs from ankles to thighs, spreading them as the ascended. His eyes never left her face, watching the same need that burned through him light her gaze and her mouth give that perfect, kissable little "O" that he could barely resist. Instead, he slowly bent his head and leaned into her, pulling her legs up one at a time to wrap around his shoulders. His arms pressed against the wall, holding her in place when his lips finally met their mark, kissing her soft, hairless mound gently. Witches had very little body hair and the feel of her bare mound beneath his tongue made him shiver. He felt more than heard her moan when his exploring lips and tongue reached her little nub of nerves, circling it slowly. Her body writhed for him, her back arching against the wall with her head thrown back. Her fingers dug into his blond hair, pulling him closer. He needed no other encouragement.

It was like all the control he'd tried to keep firmly in place on his drive over, encounter with Quin and Ceri and trip through his compound finally snapped. He dove into that heated sex, his tongue thrusting deep to taste their combined flavours from earlier. He groaned as he tried to suck every drop of their juices out of this exotic cup, teeth nipping lightly at her swollen lips in between thrusts. She tasted so damn _good_, and the knowledge that he was also eating his seed, his claim on her mad his heavy organ twitch excitedly against his belly. He could feel the drop of pre-come slowly trailing down the underside of his shaft, providing him with that gentle sensation of a soft stroke.

He worked at her, eating, licking, sucking and biting that perfect set of wet, slick lips. Her body began to tremble and buck against his face, riding his tongue with increasing desire. He knew she was close and he desperately wanted to have her climax in his mouth. With his nose pressed against her nub, rubbing against it while his tongue worked inside of her, he brought her, her hands becoming tight fists in his hair, her body bucking against his face and an explosion of wetness spilled into his waiting mouth, her scream torn from her throat to echo in his bathroom. He kept thrusting his tongue up inside of her, keeping that orgasm rolling for as long as he could until she fell limp in his arms.

Slowly, Trent drew away, rising between her legs, holding her thighs against him so her swollen sex could draw a slick, heated line down the front of his body. His eyes were locked on her slack face, daring her to object while she glowed with sweat and release. When his face was just above her face, he waited for her to open her eyes, his breath hot and gasping against her face. His twitching tool was right against that opening but he didn't penetrate her. He ran the top of him against her, watching her face scrunch with sexual pleasure, her mouth open and her body writhe against him. She finally opened her eyes, that passion in her eyes was echoed in his face when he descended to her mouth. His mouth was still wet with her orgasm and he groaned when she began mimicking his earlier movements lower on her body on his mouth. She fed at his mouth, her tongue thrusting into it, stealing that flavour of their combined passion away.

Trent groaned into her mouth and thrust his hips helplessly against her, his grip bruising where he held her hips in place. She rocked in return while she continued to eat his mouth. Her teeth graze his lips and the world broke around them, the once solid floor of his bathroom falling away from beneath his feet. Without even thinking about it, he turned, wrapping one arm behind her back while she rocked her invitation across him. He stepped them both under the hot cascade of the shower, not even caring if they closed the curtain behind them.

Once inside, he slowly put her down and she made little sounds of protest when he pulled his mouth away from hers. His swollen, bruised lips smiled softly as he panted with strain. She watched him with her arms around his shoulders to keep them close. His hands gave her a soft caress from her hips, up her sides to her shoulders, then down her arms where he grasped her wrists behind his head. His grip was a gentle vice as he unhooked them, pulling her hands around his neck. He put soft kisses on the back of her hands before he changed his hold, crossing her arms at his chest. With slow, deliberate torture, he turned her to face away from him. She thrust her tight globes against him, nearly breaking his concentration, but not quite. _This_ would be on _his_ terms.

Hehe. I've got to run for now, but enjoy.


	12. Chapter 12

Usual disclaimers: I don't own these characters, just find them very fun to play with. Same apology as before as I inform all to read at your own risk at my spelling mistakes.

Of course, Rachel never made it easy for him. Once she realized he as putting her into a position where she'd have absolutely no power, she struggled a bit. It only made Trent want her more and he pressed himself against her back, bringing her wrists together to hold then firmly in place above her head. He may not be a vampire, but elves had impressive strength. Enough to hold a feisty red-head in place. His body pushed hers into the cold tile and he was rewarded with little gasps even before he began to nibble softly at the nape of her neck. She tasted salty from sweat and he groaned into her skin.

He knew she was more than ready when he drew back and reached down his own body to his trembling need. His own skin burned with lust and his shaft throbbed to be touched. He angled himself while she tipped her hips back to aid in his desperate entry. There was nothing slow or soft about this penetration. One moment he was behind her pointing in, the next she was locked around him, her tight sheath gripping him fiercely. They both cried out, their voices hoarse as it echoed off the walls.

Before she could recover, Trent began to move. His thrusts were hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping skin made a passionate rhythm with their moans and cries the harmony. He held her hands in place over her head until he knew she was too far gone to resist. His hands smoothed down the wet flesh of her back, kneading and caressing, his fingers made her skin white where he held her. First her shoulders, then down her spine, reaching forward to caress the outline of her breasts where they were pressed firmly against the wall and finally down to her hips, forcing her back as he thrust in to make the strokes that much more powerful.

The sensation as amazing and Trent felt he would die from the sheer pleasure of it. He could feel her instinctively tightening her muscles when he thrust in and loosening them when he eased out. Oh, god, she felt so good. Then it got even better when she climaxed, screaming against the tiles and twitching and clutching her opening around him. He almost lost control, almost came with her and he had to fight his own body to keep the momentum going.

Once she finished riding her orgasm, Trent pulled out as suddenly as he'd originally thrust in. He smiled when he heard her moan and pressed his lips against her ear to growl in return. She shivered for him and he spun her around. The look on her face was priceless, everything Trent wanted in one beautiful expression. Her eyes were closed, her brow pinched and her mouth slightly open. Little whimpers escaped those lush, kissable lips and he didn't deny himself. Even while he reached to cup her firm behind and raise her off the ground, his mouth devoured hers. His tongue reached so far into her mouth that he was surprised she didn't gag. _That has possibilities_, Trent grinned to himself.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms held his shoulders while he fed at her mouth. The angle was perfect and allowed Trent to push back into those tight folds once again, those movements still as forceful as before. Rachel could do nothing but take him, her back pressed into the cold tile and her weight supported solely on him while he pounded inside her. By her cries alone he'd have been able to tell that she was about to climax again and this time, he could not deny himself. When she began to shiver against him and her nails clawed at his shoulders, her legs clutched him to her and her voice came out in harsh screams, he echoed her cries and his rhythm faultered. Her climax came like a tidal wave, her slick fluids dripping down him even while the hot water caressed their flesh. The sensation alone would have been enough but her screams and nails in his back helped him along while he cried her name in a hoarse scream and emptied himself into her.

For a while, neither of them moved. They trembled against one another and Trent's legs felt as though they may give out at any time, but he held her against that wall while their breathing slowly turned to normal. He watched her carefully, his eyes fixed on her face. Slowly he watched the shine of climax fade into a glow of contentment. When she finally opened her eyes and looked back at him, a slow smile spread over his lips. "Did you say we needed to talk about something, Miss Morgan," he said in a trembling voice.

At first she just frowned at him and Trent thought for sure he'd be in trouble. He never let her down, of course, still fully sheathed inside her with her back against the wall. He figured she could do less damage if she couldn't move. Then, suddenly, she was laughing and doing wicked things to him while he still held himself inside her. Trent groaned and nearly dropped her, his head coming to rest on her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry Trent," she cooed condescendingly. "Is that distracting? I wouldn't want to do that." And she continued to laugh, her arms and legs pulling him closer and her mouth coming down to grin against his shoulder.

"If you don't stop that, Morgan," he growled, feeling himself pulse back to full life, "I'll have you again right here on the shower floor. In fact, I think I'll do that anyway." Rachel squealed with delight and mock fear when he spun her down and almost slammed her against the floor. He slowly began to move inside her when there was a soft knock against the bathroom door.

"This had _better_ be an emergency," Trent growled while he continued to move slowly inside Rachel. She made little whimpers as she felt every ridge and vein of him sliding in and out of her overly sensitive sheath. He knew he didn't need to speak any louder if it was Quen and if it wasn't, he didn't much give a damn. He was all but lost in the sensation of her soft skin and vice-like grip on all things lower.

"I don't mean to, er, interrupt, Sa'han," came Quen's voice through the solid oak of the door, "but Rynn Cormel is waiting to see you in your office."

Rachel ran her nails down Trent's chest as he held himself above her on his palms and Trent shivered almost not catching Quen's words. "Tell him I'll be with him... momentarily," Trent grunted, thrusting deeper.

"I do hope not," the very busy elf heard while he moved inside his red haired witch.

Trent grinned and began to move with more purpose. He leaned down, doing a press-up move just over her body, her nipples dragging back and forth over his chest. She shivered for him and turned her head to the side. "I regret that I do not have more time for this," he whispered into the soft, slick flesh of her neck, his lips leaving light kisses, "but I promise that I'll make it up later." She groaned and Trent took it as acceptance and began to move faster. It wasn't quite the brutal tempo that he'd have moments before, but it was certainly anything but gentle. With their already sensitive skin, it didn't take long before they were screaming each other's names into the steamy air.

Trent rolled over, gasping for air while he lay next to her on the hard tile. He felt himself twitching on his lower abdomen and he was amazed he had not lost the will to move. This woman was a drug. After a few moments of collecting himself, he turned, finding Rachel still incoherent from her orgasm. He grined and placed gentle kisses along her shoulder and arm. "Feel free to clean up, but do not leave the compound," he growled. "We still have that talk you wanted."

"God, Trent, haven't you talked enough?" Rachel asked and Trent was absolutely certain she didn't mean anything verbal while he collected himself off the floor, wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.


End file.
